


I Can't Help Myself

by AmyZestyPond



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Anxiety, Bisexual Dean, Homophobic Language, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Nonbinary Character, Oral Sex, Pansexual Castiel, Rimming, So much angst, Underage Drinking, Underage Sex, Work In Progress, nonbinary Castiel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-21
Updated: 2016-06-05
Packaged: 2018-03-14 11:14:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 37,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3408482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmyZestyPond/pseuds/AmyZestyPond
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Dean accepted a tutoring job for the extra cash, this was not was he was expecting. At all. Castiel Novak, captain of the Lawrence High Varsity baseball team, does not need help with anything ever and that is not about to end now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> All the thanks to my beautiful beta, Wingz. Love you bae.

When Dean’s AP Physics teacher, Mrs. Moseley, asked if he would be willing to tutor a fellow student for some extra cash, this was not at all what he was expecting. She told him about the job after class on Monday, but failed to mention which of his classmates needed the extra help, only that they were willing to pay him generously. Of course, he agreed. Even with the long hours he worked at the shop, he could use some extra cash. So, the next day during class, Mrs. Moseley handed Dean a perfectly folded, typed note.

To: Dean Winchester

Thank you for agreeing to tutor me in Physics. If it is convenient, I would like to schedule our first session for Thursday. My address is: 379 North Anderson Lane, Lawrence, KS. Arrive promptly at 6:00pm.

From: Your grateful classmate

Not even a goddamn name on the paper, and since it was typed, Dean had no hope of identifying his “grateful classmate” by their handwriting (as if he actually could). At the very least, Dean knew Lawrence like the back of his hand, and North Anderson was in what he often referred to as “the part of Lawrence that had been poisoned by rich snobs,” so that was a clue. However, it wasn't nearly enough to identify his mysterious classmate, nor was it enough to prepare him for the person standing in front of him at 379 North Anderson Lane. Absolutely not.

Castiel Novak did _not_ need help in Physics. He never needed help from anyone with anything, and that was not about to change now.

"I- I must have gotten the wrong address," Dean stammered, slowly inching his way off the Novak's porch so he could bolt as soon as possible. "Sorry." He turned on his heel, fully prepared to speed walk down the driveway until nobody was watching.

"Dean." Nope, he's hallucinating, hearing things. Castiel Novak was not talking to him nor was he looking at him, and Dean did not want him to. Except, yes, he was, and that was his voice saying, “You did not receive the wrong address, nor did you read it incorrectly.” Dean took a deep breath before turning around and plastering on his best fake smile for Castiel--best not to look like he's scared out of his ever loving mind even though he absolutely was.

"Just testing you, Castiel," Dean grinned, attempting to look as confident as possible. "So, you need help with physics?" Castiel nodded once, opening the screen door to let Dean inside. Dean let his eyes roam over Castiel's face, but he couldn't find any signs that his “grateful classmate” (who didn’t look too grateful in Dean’s humble opinion) might be lying. Nonetheless, Dean walked past him cautiously, waiting for the punch line to Castiel's elaborate prank. Except, it never came; Castiel simply led Dean through the living room and kitchen to the dining room. Of course, he made sure Dean understood some ground rules first such as, “always remove your shoes immediately and place them on either the shoe rack or the mat beneath it--whichever you prefer,” and “if you wish to remove your coat, please hang it in the closet to your left.” Both seemed arguably reasonable, but of course Castiel didn’t stop there and his requests only became more and more outrageous. He listed things like “no chewing gum is allowed on the property” and “you must always be presentable before even stepping on the porch. That means no oil, no grease, and no dirt.”

"Do I have to remember all that or am I gonna have to sign a contract?" Dean asked as he trailed behind Castiel who simply ignored him. Dean shook his head, wondering if every other member of the Novak family was as unusual as his classmate. How many siblings did Castiel have anyway? Dean knew there were a few of them, but he didn’t see a family portrait in any of the rooms he followed Castiel through. There was not one photo and now that he thought about it, he began to notice a lack of personal touch in the Novak dining room, too. The whole room looked like a set-up out for show at a home furnishing store. No wonder Castiel wanted him to look presentable. He wouldn’t fit in here unless he was dressed in business casual. Well, one thing was for sure; if Dean was actually going to tutor Castiel, he was going to need new clothes.

"Before we begin, I must ask for a tentative schedule of when you will be available," Castiel said.

"Huh? Oh! My schedule. Yeah, no problem," Deam stammered. He had completely zoned out wondering how the hell he was going to afford that new wardrobe, not to mention he had no idea where to get business casual clothes in the first place. Now, he also had to get Castiel a copy of his schedule so that he could... "Wait, why do you need my schedule?"

Castiel sighed, likely frustrated with Dean's lack of understanding. "I need it as a reference in scheduling future sessions," he told Dean in the most condescending tone humanly possible. Castiel stood from his seat at the table, directly across from Dean. "Please set up anything you need. I am going to make tea. Would you like anything? I can offer you tea, coffee, ice water..."

Before Castiel could ramble out another of his outrageously long lists, Dean interrupted him. "Just a glass of ice water would be great, thanks." He smiled awkwardly as Castiel nodded and left the room. As soon as he was alone, Dean pulled out his phone to text his best friend. Ash would undoubtedly see how messed up this whole thing was and maybe find a way out of it for Dean.

To: Ash

From: Dean

tutoring student is castiel novak...

As he waited for Ash to write back, Dean did as Castiel had suggested and pulled a new notebook and his AP Physics textbook out of his backpack. He set the notebook on the table near where Castiel had been sitting and opened the textbook where they would both be able to see it. His phone was still sitting on the table when it lit up with a new message from Ash.

To: Winchester, Dean

From: Ash

What?! Are you fucking with me? Novak doesn't need a tutor

To: Ash

From: Dean

thats what i thought. think something else is going on??

Before Dean could read a new incoming message from Ash, Castiel had returned with their drinks. Dean quickly shoved his phone into his bag because even Dean Winchester had manners. Sure, he wasn't high class like the Novaks, but he was not a barbarian.

"I apologize for the wait," Castiel said as he set their drinks down on coasters he had brought back from the kitchen. He sat down, looking at his new tutor expectantly.

"S'all good. Thanks for the drink," Dean said, trying to discern from Castiel's body language whether or not he was keeping up some sort of elaborate prank that involved mocking Dean for not understanding Theoretical Quantum Physics because Castiel had probably mastered it already. No. No, he was here because Castiel needed help in what happened to be Dean's best subject. "So, physics?"

"Yes."

"Uhh... What exactly do you need help with because we can skip over everything else," Dean said, gesturing with his hands as if that would make this situation any less awkward.

Castiel stared at the wall behind Dean's shoulder, squinting his eyes and furrowing his eyebrows together as he thought. "I had no problem with the theory we covered in the beginning of the course," he responded, still staring at the wall. "However, I have had some trouble putting that theory into practice and knowing when to use which equation." As he finished speaking, he turned his head to squint at Dean. "Where do you suggest we begin?"

Throughout their entire tutoring session that night, Castiel barely moved. He never got up or looked at Dean again which, in Dean's opinion was most definitely not a bad thing. If he never had to suffer one of Castiel's strangely intense stares again, he could live happily. Castiel worked in the notebook Dean gave him, occasionally referencing the textbook or writing down something Dean had suggested. By the time 8:00 finally rolled around, they had reviewed everything from the beginning of the course and half of their current chapter. Castiel had asked so many questions, Dean was starting to believe he actually did need help in the subject.

After Dean had retrieved his father's old leather jacket and slipped his sneakers back on, he made his way back to Baby--the '67 Chevy Impala he had inherited from his father. Once again surrounded by the comfort of familiarity (aka the smell of leather and booze), Dean pulled out his phone to see 3 unread messages from Ash. Before he could check them and unleash the insanity that was his best friend, he had to text his mother.

To: Mom

From: Dean

on my way. Sammy get home ok?

To: Dean

From: Mary

Yes. Drive safe.

Satisfied, Dean opened Ash's messages.

To: Winchester, Dean

From: Ash

Maybe. The only thing that guy needs help with is acting like a normal, well-adjusted human being

To: Winchester, Dean

From: Ash

Considering the fact that I am currently bypassing LH's firewalls and security system (which is very weak btw. I thought schools were supposed to have like top notch security systems...) I know that seems hypocritical but Novak is his own brand of crazy. My crazy is like genius-crazy so it's fine

To: Winchester, Dean

From: Ash

Found Novak's grades. All A's and a B+ in AP Physics. Like I said, he doesn't need help

Rolling his eyes, Dean wrote Ash back.

To: Ash

From: Dean

well to him a b+ probly IS failing

Since the drive to his own neighborhood would take about 20 minutes with light traffic, Dean tuned the radio to his favorite classic rock station and rolled the windows down. Driving down a highway at night was definitely his favorite thing in the world. Maybe he could get something good out of tutoring Castiel besides the extra cash.

The very second Dean stepped out of his car the next morning, he found himself with a faceful of over enthusiastic Ash. Apparently, he had been "pulling his hair out last night trying to figure all this out." Today, the "this" in question was not just one particular problem in Ash's extraordinarily complex life. Occasionally, Dean would be lucky enough to encounter Ash with only one problem or less (about once a month Ash dealt with a half of a problem), however today seemed to be a multi-problem day. Still in an early-morning daze, Dean simply steered his friend towards the front doors of their shared prison--Lawrence High--while nodding and humming agreement or disapproval appropriately. Ash continued his rant, following Dean down the hall to his locker and to his first class without once stopping for breath. Since this had become normal procedure over the past three years, Dean didn't usually pay too much attention. Instead, he let his mind wander, going over everything that had happened last night, and eventually running into Castiel. Literally. This morning, he had managed to get so lost in his thoughts that he didn't notice the boy he was focusing his whole mind on until Castiel was on the ground in front of him, looking just as surprised and embarrassed as Dean felt.

"Hey Novak, thought you were a straight A kid. Don't you know to look where you're walking?" Ash said, effectively bringing both Castiel and Dean back to the present moment. Castiel glared at Ash, possibly hoping to freeze him on the spot with the ice crystals that occupied the space where his irises should be.

"I- yes," Castiel spluttered, looking back down to gather his books which had been thrown across the floor in his collision with Dean. "I apologize. I am usually more careful."

"Don't worry about it. Was just as much my fault," Dean assured him, offering his hand to help Castiel up. Castiel looked from Dean's extended hand to his face for what felt like minutes before pushing himself up. _Well shit_ , being back on the receiving end of Castiel's inhumanly intense stare somehow took Dean less than 24 hours, probably some sort of record.

Castiel pulled his bag onto his shoulder, straightening at whatever he saw behind Dean. "Ash. Dean," he said, nodding to each of them in turn, before walking briskly past Dean and down the hall.

"Yeah. See ya," Dean said, to Castiel's quickly retreating back. Of course, Dean reprimanded himself for not realizing instantly who Castiel was rushing to join--Lawrence High's Varsity baseball team. Also popularly known as the most hated and admired baseball team in Kansas because they hadn't lost a game since 1992. So naturally, who would be the Team Captain? Castiel fucking Novak. He had been the first freshman to ever make Varsity, and quickly became the most feared player in the state. He dominated the diamond with the highest batting average for any high school pitcher South of the Mason-Dixon. Ever. Not that Dean had ever googled it to be sure; except for that one time, but that was for an article in Lawrence High's school paper that Charlie had been assigned to write. Not because Dean was curious about the boy who got straight A's, never missed a day of school, made LH's Varsity baseball team freshman year, and somehow still managed to be the most attractive guy he had ever seen in his full 18 years of life. Of course not. It was just a background check for Charlie's article.

"Should I leave you here to stare at his ass until the bell rings or would you like to be reminded how much of a conceited asshole he is?" Ash asked. "I have plenty of examples at the ready. No bluff. Go on," he teased, opening his arms wide in invitation (if he happened to block Dean's view of everything else, well he'd argue that was completely coincidental until his dying day), "test me!"

Dean rolled his eyes, shoving Ash's shoulder to knock him off balance. "Yeah. I know, man. You're right. Guy's a homophobic jackass." He turned his friend in the direction of his first class. "Now go to class before I start hating you too!"

"Only if you promise not to lust after my fine ass," Ash winked. He turned and smacked his own ass before strutting down the hall while some of their classmates whistled. One girl (Dean swears it was Charlie, but she always denies it) even called out, "Werk it guuurl!!"

Dean smirked, glad he had friends willing to take the attention off Dean himself. He turned toward the AP Compsci lab which was thankfully only three doors down from where Ash left him.

"Of course the one with the best body is a homophobic asshole," he muttered as he kicked his bag underneath a desk. "Just like every other rich kid in this goddamn school."

"Sucks for him then," Charlie whispered playfully, plopping into the chair next to Dean. "He's missing out on all this fruity goodness." She shook her chest and ran her fingers up Dean's shirt.

"Fruity?" Dean raised an eyebrow.

"I had a fruit roll up for breakfast," Charlie explained casually. "Man, those things are like a fruity orgasm except they're chewy and an acceptable breakfast choice for the average teenager."

"Not to burst your bubble, but I don't think fruit roll ups are considered an acceptable breakfast choice for anyone."

"Really Dean? You too? That's what my mom said!" Charlie complained.

"Please tell me you did not compare fruit roll ups to orgasms in a conversation with your mother," Dean said, terrified that Mrs. Bradbury had once again been subjected to her daughter's outrageous, early morning rambling. The Charizard Incident, as they had come to call it, was only a month ago. Not to mention the Superhero Debate, but that was still and probably would be forever ongoing.

Almost as soon as the comment left Dean's mouth, Charlie's jaw fell open, and her eyes went wide. This was the look Dean had fondly titled "The Calm before You should call a Medic" because a second later, Dean honestly thought Charlie might suffocate herself from laughing too hard. Or at the very least fall out of her chair. Instead she just screamed, "No! Oh my gods, Dean! No!" until she could calm down enough to breathe properly. "Dean, she said I shouldn't be eating fruit roll ups for breakfast."

~~~~~~~~~~~

Dean walked into LH Monday morning, accompanied by only Charlie. Nobody so far had caught sight of Ash. For all they knew, he was holed up in the compsci lab, disabling firewalls to gain access to the French government or passionately arguing with the Latin teacher in German (yes, it had happened before). Either way, Dean was left to handle Charlie. Dean didn’t mind; he loved Charlie. She was like the little sister he never wanted. But as little sisters do, so Charlie does.

“So are you going back to Novak’s this week?”

Dean sighed, running his hand through his hair. “Yeah, Thursday.”

“Mhm,” Charlie gave him that concerned little sister look, “Are you sure you.. should go?” When Dean made no comment, she just kept talking. “I mean, yeah he’s paying you to be there, but do you trust him enough to be in his house? If something happens to you…”

“I can handle myself, Charlie,” Dean interrupted. “Look, I know you guys are worried…”

“We’re your friends. It’s our job to worry about you.” The bell rang before either of them could say anything else. Charlie backed away, holding up a Vulcan greeting as she did. “Peace out, bitch.”

"Goooood morning Lawrence High!" Ash's voice crooned over the school speakers. "As you all know, I have very little time here. Je suis tres desole mes petites choux. Pas de temps pour le plaisir ce matin. But I am here to give you all strict orders to join me and my honorable sidekicks in the basement at 3:25 for workshop et le corps si nous vous aimons... TOURS!!!" Ash's voice disappeared and was quickly replaced by party poppers and those annoying noise makers every little kid (and Ash) had on every New Year's Eve. That is, until the sound cut out completely which, to Ash's well-deserved credit, wasn't until about 15 seconds later. Mrs. Harvelle, the Vice Principal of LH, had probably snatched the microphone from his scrawny hands as soon as she figured out how to get near it.

"Teachers and students, I apologize for the disturbance during class time. We are doing everything we can to prevent incidents like this from happening." Just as Mrs. Harvelle's voice snapped off the speaker, Ash sauntered into class. After multiple bows, repeated (albeit unnecessary) thank you's, and glares from the front of the room, he finally plopped down into his seat next to Dean. The look Ash subsequently received was somewhere between astonishment, confusion, and disapproval. Ash squirmed. He hated when Dean did this to him--got all protective and looked out for him because he knew Ash wouldn't. After promising to recount the story during their shared free period (which okay, yes that happened to also be their lunch period so what?), Dean finally rolled his eyes and turned away. The stunt would undoubtedly get a few curious students to check out the robotics team. Getting them to come back was a whole nother ball game.

~~~~~~~~~~~

When Dean had explained his new tutoring job to Mary, she nodded and smiled sweetly in that way that only she could. Of course she knew Dean had only taken it for the extra money, but neither of them mentioned that. Now Dean could help put away money for Sammy to go to college along with getting the groceries as usual.

Things had been rough for the Winchesters since John died, but Dean did everything he could to make up for it. Mary had gone back to working full-time when Dean was eight, so Dean had learned how to cook in order to make sure Sammy always had food on his plate. When he was fourteen, Dean offered to drop out of school and work full-time, but Mary had simply shaken her head, smiled sweetly in that way that only she could, brushed her hand through his hair, and told him to keep studying. That same year, he met Ash who talked him into joining Lawrence High’s robotics team. At the time, Dean never would have imagined his life now. He was in AP Physics and AP Calculus AB/BC. Everyone thought he was on his way to MIT or some other tech school. What everyone, including Mary, didn’t know was that Dean’s plans hadn’t changed in the slightest. He’d only delayed them a bit to appease Mary. He spent nearly every spare second working and put all of his earnings towards food for Sammy, school supplies for Sammy, books for Sammy (if Dean borrowed a few now and then, that was his business), and now, he had enough to put some aside for Sammy to go to college.

“So who is the lucky guy or gal who’s stealing you away once a week?” Mary asked.

“Just some kid,” Dean answered, nonchalantly. “Never really met him before.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

“You didn’t even tell Mary?!” Charlie shrieked. Her hands were flying wildly in the air as if she couldn’t decide whether she wanted to pull her hair out or punch Dean’s lights out. “What the hell is wrong with you Winchester?”

“She doesn’t need to know,” Dean said as he sent a glare in her direction, daring her to keep arguing with him. Charlie groaned as she dropped her head into her hands, elbows resting on the table.

“Gotta say,” Ash said, in between shoveling food into his mouth, “it’s a pretty shitty decision…”

“Thank you!”

“But,” Ash held a finger up to Charlie, “imagine Mary’s reaction if she did know. Hm?” He quirked up an eyebrow for emphasis.

“Exactly. What would I even tell her? ‘ _Oh Mom, by the way, remember that time the entire baseball team beat me up in an alley the week after I came out? Yeah I’m spending a couple hours a week with the team captain now_.’” Dean shook his head and resumed inhaling his lunch.

The rest of the day went on as normal--boring classes, boring teachers, rude classmates. A stream of insults like “faggot” “suck my cock” and “gayboy” followed Dean all day every day. At first, he would've attacked anyone who dared look at him the wrong way, but Novak and all his teammates had sure put a stop to that. Now, Dean held his head up and went on, wondering if his classmates would ever get a little more creative with their insults. Not that Dean minded; he could deal with a few assholes calling him a faggot.

~~~~~~~~~~~

That Thursday, Dean sauntered onto the Novak’s front porch at 5:58. The door was opening before he could reach out to knock. “Don’t tell me you were sittin around waiting,” Dean smiled.

Castiel just glared at him again. “Your car is loud.” Dean’s smile got even wider, proud of his Baby, and he almost thought he saw Castiel roll his eyes. Castiel turned down the hall before he could be sure, so Dean slipped his sneakers onto the mat and hung his dad’s old leather jacket in the closet. When Dean sat down across from Castiel at the dining room table, a glass of ice water was already waiting for him.

This evening was only slightly less awkward than the last, and in Dean’s opinion, slightly was better than not at all. However, Castiel seemed able to do most of the work on his own, so Dean decided to get some of his work done while he could.

The first time he noticed Castiel staring, he assumed Castiel had been trying to get his attention. “You need help with somethin?” Castiel looked taken aback, but nodded and proceeded to ask Dean questions on the chapter for the next fifteen minutes. The second time, Castiel averted his eyes before Dean could say anything.

When 8:00 finally rolled around, Castiel escorted Dean to the door. "Are you free next Friday?" he blurted out while Dean was pulling his sneakers back on.

Dean froze momentarily, willing himself not to look directly at Castiel. If he did, he knew he would be staring at the guy as if he had grown an extra head. "Uh I'm not sure..." He paused, desperately willing his heart to stop hammering out of his chest. Of course, he didn't have any solid plans yet. Friday was date night for almost every teenager in Lawrence. It used to be for Dean too, but coming out to the whole school made getting a date nearly impossible. Now, Friday either meant getting drunk with Ash and Charlie (and crying about how hard life is) or babysitting Sammy. Sometimes he did both. "I might have to work." Lie. The shop was closed on Fridays. "Why? You wanna reschedule?"

Castiel squared his shoulders, replacing any expression that may have been there with the same stoic mask Dean always saw at school. "I was hoping to have an extra day to study." He glanced at Dean, eyebrows slightly pinched together before quickly adding, "with you," as if that cleared up any confusion. "Our first exam is in two weeks, and I am not sure I am adequately prepared."

Dean slipped into his jacket, fitting it comfortably over his broad shoulders. He had forgotten about the exam approximately 5 minutes after Mrs. Moseley mentioned it. Whereas, Castiel obviously had not. "Don't worry about it. I'm free Tuesday. That okay?"

"Y-yes. That should work... fine." Dean lifted the corner of his mouth in what was supposed to be a smile, but probably looked more like an uncomfortable grimace.

"Great. Just don't let me forget," he said as he walked out.

~~~~~~~~~~~

It was a Friday. Dean was on his way home with Ash and Charlie sprawled over the back seat of the Impala (everyone knew Sammy always rode shotgun) when it started. Surprisingly enough, Sammy had been the one to mention it. "So, Dean," he started, cautiously. "I know you don't usually do anything," that comment earned him a glare. "but Ruby's having a huge party and..."

"Sammy," Dean said, the warning in his tone. _Don't do it_.

"It's only two weeks away and Mom will never let me out that late alone," Sam kept talking. _Not here. Not now._ Dean thought. _Just wait til we get home._

"We're not talking about this right now," Dean said, definitively. "Discussion over." He reached to turn the radio up, but stopped short.

"I already told her I'd be there. She likes me Dean! Like actually likes me!" Sam argued. "And Ash already said he'd take me," he mumbled. Dean caught it though and his eyes flickered up to the rear-view mirror to see his friend sinking into the backseat.

"We'll talk about this at home. Then I can slap _you_ across the face," he glared at Ash in the mirror, "without accidentally driving us all into a ditch." The remainder of their ride home passed in complete silence. Admittedly, they were only about five minutes away when this happened, but those were five extremely tense minutes.

Dean didn’t bother waiting for Charlie to close the front door of the house before turning on Ash. “What the _fuck_?!” Dean wasn’t angry so much because Ash had agreed to take Sammy out, but that’s the reason he used. Seeing Sam try to sneak upstairs before he could get involved in the discussion he had started, Dean turned to face him. “Oh hell no. You are not running away now. We are talking about this and we are going to do it before Mom gets home.”

Hands up, palms facing Dean, Ash slowly stepped away from the wall Dean had backed him into. “Dean, don’t yell at him.” He stopped as Dean looked back at him. “I get it. You’re upset. We didn’t talk to you about it before. We are now, okay?” Dean sighed, falling onto the old, ratty couch in the living room. “Great. I’ll grab a couple beers. Don’t kill anyone before I get back.” Ash stepped carefully out of sight, motioning for Charlie to join him in the kitchen.

“Dean,” Sam started as soon as they left, positioning himself to face his older brother on their couch.

“No. Not yet, kid,” Dean said, refusing to hear him out until he had some alcohol in his system. God, the kid was still so small and scrawny. Dean had to look out for him. He couldn’t let Sammy end up like him. He’d never be able to look Mary in the eye again, let alone forgive himself.  No. Sammy had to stay on the high road, go to college, have all the success no Winchester ever got. He couldn’t be like Dean.

Ash and Charlie returned not two minutes later with a six pack from Dean’s own stash. With a disapproving stare from his little brother and a sympathetic smile from Charlie, Dean chugged a first can and, crushing it between his palms, opened a second.

“Ready?” Ash asked. Dean held up an index finger, took a long drink, then nodded. Ash let out a breath, glancing between the two brothers occupying the couch as he did. “Okay. Dean, we know you don’t trust anyone in this entire town. And hey, whatever, that’s cool. You have good reason.” Dean shot him a look as if to say _just get on with it already_. “And we know that you wanna look out for Sam. You’re good at keeping the kid out of trouble. Congratulations. That’s really fucking hard to do. But you can’t keep him from everything.”

Dean rubbed a hand over his eyes before figuring out what to say. “Alright. So, I’m just supposed to let him go to this party. God knows who’s gonna be there…”

“I will,” Ash interrupted.

“Right. You. But you’re one person, Ash,” Dean continued. “What are you gonna do if someone picks a fight? And what if it’s because of me? Because his older brother is a faggot?” Dean shook his head. “You can’t take all those people Ash, and god knows this kid hasn’t had his growth spurt, yet. Y’all are the brains. I’m the brawn.” He took a swig from his drink. “I’m the tough one and even I couldn’t handle a few of those athletes.” He ran a hand through his already messy hair, every sentence getting more difficult to articulate. “How are we supposed to protect him there, Ash?”

Sam was staring at his older brother, obviously touched by the sentiment. “Dean, you don’t have to worry about me. My friends are going. They don’t care that you’re bi. Even without Ash there I would be okay.”

Dean let his head fall onto the back of the couch as he considered what to do. He could let Sammy go with or without Ash and worry about the kid all night. Or he could tell him to stay home and risk getting Sammy mad at him. "Who is this Ruby chick anyway?" He lifted his head, staring at Sam. "I wanna know who she is, where she lives, what kinda people she hangs out with. If I don't like her, neither of you are going."

As it turned out, Ruby's family had moved to Lawrence two years ago for her dad's job. By Lawrence standards, they were considerably liberal which Dean figured made sense seeing as how they had moved from California. Ruby was the younger of two siblings, but her older brother (Sam said his name was Crowley) lived in Los Angeles. Nobody in Lawrence knew a whole lot about the guy. Ruby, on the other hand, most people knew. It was hard not to notice her. She had bright red hair, an eyebrow piercing, and (this one may or may not be true) a tongue piercing. Sammy claimed that they were both interested in each other and this party would be his one chance to really impress her. Dean failed to understand how either of them wanted to speak to the other. They seemed like polar opposites. Either way, he agreed to let Sammy go, conditions to follow when he wasn't buzzed.

Charlie dragged Dean up to his room, instructing Ash to grab a couple more beers when he was done working out details of the party with Sam. By the time they were all crowded in the small upstairs bedroom, Dean was finishing his third can. He and Charlie were on the twin bed, Charlie sitting cross-legged and leaning against the wall, Dean laying on Charlie. "Think he's drunk enough?" Charlie asked Ash who was sprawled out on the floor.

"Hmm?" Charlie sighed and crushed her empty can, throwing it at Ash's torso. "Okay! Okay! Uhh..." Ash sat up, slightly dazed. "What was the question?"

"Thought you were gonna help me on this," Charlie said, but Ash still seemed just as confused as Dean. "Men," she sighed overdramatically, "You're so useless!"

"Hey now..." Dean interrupted. Charlie just gave him one of those _don't even try to argue_ looks and continued running her fingers through his hair. "So what..." Hiccup. "...did I have to be drunk for?"

"Well, we were thinking," Charlie said, slowly enough for Dean to comprehend. "It's our last year together in Lawrence, and as much as we all love these Friday nights holed up in your bedroom, we want to make this year," she paused, considering the right word, "...memorable."

Dean pushed himself up, looking back and forth between his friends. "What exactly did you have in mind that I obviously wouldn't agree to sober?" Ash and Charlie shared a look, and oh no. No. Dean was not getting involved in this shit again.

"It's just one party," Ash said. "And it's Halloween so nobody has to know you're... you." Dean tried to will Ash into a pile of dust, but unfortunately, the laws of physics wouldn't make an exception for him. "Man, we haven't been to a real party in almost two years. Don't act like you don't miss it."

Dean dropped his head back to thump against the wall. "You're not giving me a choice, are you?" he asked, already knowing he was defeated.

"Nope," Charlie smiled. "But you gotta have a costume."

"Were you even gonna go to that party with Sam?" Dean asked Ash. "Or is it in the same neighborhood?"

"Right down the street!" Ash actually looked proud of himself.

Over the next two weeks, Dean attempted to talk Charlie and Ash out of going out on Halloween. Instead of listening to any of his many arguments, they discussed costumes. Charlie wanted to be Khaleesi. Ash would be a Pokemon trainer. Two days before Halloween, Dean still didn't have a costume. Ash, Charlie, and Sammy kept suggesting different things he could do, but he was still too far in denial to consider any of them. Captain Kirk had actually seemed like a decent idea, although then he would've had to go find a costume. No thanks.

"Seriously Dean?!" Charlie screamed in frustration. "It's Halloween! How do you not have a costume?!" Fists clenched so tightly her knuckles turned white, she looked like her hair might actually turn to flames. "That's it. You're not even getting options. Get your Han Solo costume."

Before she could shove Dean back into his room, he was arguing. "Han Solo? No way. I wore that last year."

"No, Dean. You didn't. You wore it three fucking years ago. Which, coincidentally, is probably the last time you left this house!" Dean tried to argue, but Charlie just threw her hands up and walked away. "Downstairs. Ten minutes. If you aren't dressed like Han Solo, you're dead to me!"

That's how Dean ended up in a stranger's house, surrounded by people he didn't recognize in god knows what part of Lawrence, dressed as Han Solo. Ash and Charlie had run off when The Time Warp starting playing, leaving Dean in the kitchen with seemingly endless amounts of booze. So far, he had downed three cans of cheap beer. Before he could process what was happening, someone had grabbed his arm and was dragging him into the crowd. Dean went to punch the perpetrator square in the jaw, but as he turned, he saw Ash smiling. Not just a _Hey I'm really buzzed and wanna have fun_ smile. No. This was more like a shit-eating grin. Dean raised an eyebrow inquisitively. In place of an answer, Ash grabbed Dean's face, facing him toward the opposite end of the room.

Standing there, looking like she was having the time of her life, was Princess Leia. Dean turned towards his friends, ready to ask if they knew her. Charlie shrugged and pushed him into the crowd, towards Leia. Already tipsy, Dean decided _what the hell_ and made his way over to her. The closer Dean got, the more gorgeous she looked. Either he was way more drunk than he thought or he really hadn't been out in a long time. No way could someone's eyes sparkle like that. They looked like diamonds! Oh shit, oh shit, ohshitohshit. She saw him. That was the plan in the first place when he started walking over there, but now he was intimidated.

"Hi," she said, voice about an octave lower than Dean was expecting.

Dean plastered on his most charming smile. "My lady. I'm glad you could make it," he bent to kiss her hand, grinning. "I was dreading flying Solo tonight." Leia laughed, head tipping back slightly as she did.

"C'mon I want a drink," she said, grabbing Dean's hand. Once again, Dean found himself leaning against the island in the kitchen. Except this time, a beautiful girl was standing in front of him. "What's your name?" she asked.

"Dean," he answered. "And you are?"

The girl shook her head, smiling mischievously. "Just call me Leia."

"You got it, Princess," Dean smirked.

Leia looked him up and down, considering. "You're really drunk right now, aren't you?" Dean laughed, nodding. Leia stepped closer, setting her drink down on the island beside Dean's elbow. "Shame. You probably won't remember this," she said, eyes flickering down to Dean's lips. Before Dean could think, she was kissing him, soft lips pressed against Dean's own. His first kiss in almost two years and he most likely wouldn't even remember it happening. He closed his eyes, hands falling on Leia's hips as they kissed. They stayed like that until Ash walked in and whistled at them.

Leia jumped away, reaching up to fix her hair, while Dean stood, rooted to the spot. "Earth to Winchester," Ash called, waving a hand in front of Dean's face.

"Yeah, Ash. I see you. Hi," Dean stumbled over his words as his hand traced his lips where Leia's had just been.

"Oh great! You're alive!" Ash feigned enthusiasm. "Get a fucking room." He rolled his eyes, grabbed a drink, and winked at Dean before leaving. Dean slumped back against the counter, face burning. He was about to apologize for his friend when Leia was suddenly back in his personal space, kissing him.

"What d'ya say we take his advice, huh?" she whispered against his lips. "C'mon." She took Dean's hand in her own and let him follow her like a lost puppy out of the kitchen and upstairs into an empty bedroom.

As soon as the door was shut, Leia backed Dean into it, kissing him as she did. God damn she was a good kisser. Her tongue slid against Dean's, exploring his mouth. Dean tipped his head back, extending his neck in invitation. Leia eyed him hungrily, then her mouth was on him again. She kissed along his neck, down to his clavicle and back up, stopping here and there to suck little marks onto his skin. Dean ran his hands up her spine, stopping right below where her hair was pulled tightly into a bun on each side of her face. Then Leia went back to claiming Dean's mouth and he circled his hands back around to her hips.

"Want your cock," she breathed against Dean's lips. "Bet you taste so good." His head thumped back against the door as he let out a moan. "You hard for me?" Suddenly, Leia was palming Dean over his pants and all coherent thought stopped. Dean could feel his blood flow turn south, cock hardening with Leia's touch. She kissed him again, tongue sliding against Dean's before she pulled away.

She was on her knees, hands at Dean's waistband. "Wanna taste you, okay?" Dean nodded, hands falling on top of hers. She pulled his pants down so Dean was standing, back still against the door, in his boxers. Leia smiled up at him before mouthing his hardening cock over the thin fabric. Dean moaned, greedily, fingers finding their way around the back of Leia's neck. The front of his boxers were soaked with precome and spit, but her mouth felt so damn good. "More," he moaned. Leia smirked, and now that her mouth was gone, Dean was seriously regretting saying anything. When she pulled his boxers down, Dean's cock stood out, tip just touching her lips. And then her mouth was there, licking up his shaft from the hilt to the head. She placed a kiss on the head before taking it into her mouth. All Dean could think was _Fuck yes so warm so good shitfuck_ and he was moaning again. Leia grabbed his wrist before he could twist his fingers into her hair and instead held it out against the door.

Dean hadn't had his cock sucked in years, but _fuck_ even he could tell Leia's mouth was like a goddamn blessing. She worked him with her mouth and tongue, occasionally switching to jerking him off with her free hand. Before long, Dean got that familiar feeling that meant he was gonna come. "G-gonna..." he stuttered. "Fuck... So good... M'gonna... gonna come... fuck!" Leia moaned obscenely around Dean's cock.

"Come for me," Leia said, voice deep and hoarse. She wrapped her lips around the head of Dean's cock moving up and down slowly, and fuck Dean couldn't take it anymore. He curled his fingers around the back of Leia's neck, holding her in place as he rode out his orgasm, practically fucking into her mouth. Leia, the fucking goddess of blowjobs, just sat there and swallowed every last drop.

When he finished, his hands fell limp against his sides, and Leia was kissing him again. He could taste himself on her tongue and _fuck_ if that wasn't sexy as hell. Leia pushed her body against Dean's, one leg in between his as they kissed. Dean didn't notice it right away, too caught up in his own post-orgasm haze, but soon he felt what he could only assume was a rock hard cock pressing against his thigh. "Need some help with that?" he breathed into Leia's mouth, smirking as he did. Leia pulled back, obviously surprised, but not enough to walk out. She (he? Dean wasn't sure anymore) nodded, blue eyes wide and dilated with lust, as they pulled Dean back in by the neck to kiss him again. Dean palmed Leia's erection over the white dress. "Bed," he moaned, pushing them backward.

When they finally got Leia sprawled on the bed, dress pushed up to the waist, Dean just stood staring for a few seconds because fuck Leia was hot. Underneath the dress, they were wearing pink lace panties that barely held in their cock. "Fuck," Dean breathed out, heart racing. "You're so pretty." Leia smirked at him, and motioned for him to come closer. Dean crawled on top of Leia, kissing them deeply, savoring the feeling of their tongues sliding together and the faint taste of his own come. Then he lowered himself down until his warm breath made Leia's cock twitch inside those beautiful panties. He mouthed around the panties until they were wet with precome, and Leia's cock was pushing against the seam.

Dean could hear Leia moaning as he moved the panties down just enough to free their cock. He kissed the head and experimentally wrapped his lips around it. As much as Dean loved cock, he had never given a blowjob before. Queer teenagers weren't too common in Kansas. Dean bobbed his head on Leia's cock, licking the slit as he pulled off. "F-fuck," Leia moaned, voice deeper than Dean had heard it before. "So good. So warm around my cock. Ah-h please." Dean glanced up at them before licking up the shaft as Leia had done to him. He swirled his tongue around the head before taking down as much as he could and swallowing. "Fuck!" Leia screamed, hands grasping the headboard.

Dean pulled off while Leia lay gasping for breath, and pushed the panties aside. Ducking his head down, he flicked his tongue out against Leia's hole. Fuck they tasted so good. Leia moaned again so Dean dove right back in. He circled his tongue around Leia's hole, loosening it up enough for him to fit. As Leia's body became more pliant and accepting of the slight intrusion, Dean pushed his tongue past the first ring of muscles. He fucked them with his tongue, hands caressing their inner thighs as he did. Soon, Leia was fucking right back down into the wetness of Dean's tongue, hips rolling down as Dean's tongue moved inside. Leia came with no warning, come painting their dress as they did. "Fuck. So gorgeous," Dean groaned, moving back up to kiss them.

Leia smiled into the kiss, dazedly running their fingers through Dean's hair. "Gonna tell me who you really are?" Dean peppered kisses all over Leia's face. He gently bit down on their earlobe as they smiled. Leia captured Dean's mouth in one last kiss before shaking their head and moving out from beneath him.

"That'd just ruin all the fun," Leia said, winking at Dean as they walked out the door. Dean just lay there, stunned and unsure what to do now. After a minute, he gathered his clothes, dressed, tried to tame his hair, and left. He chuckled, knowing that as much as he would love to remember this, he didn't have a chance in hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The parts of Ash's speech in French translate to "I'm very sorry my little cabbages. No time for fun (pleasure) this morning. . . and body if we like you" (imagine him raising his eyebrows suggestively)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thursdays came and went, each one gradually less awkward than the first. After five weeks of driving to the Novak’s house every Thursday evening, Dean and Castiel had developed a reliable routine. Dean would hang with Ash in the basement, fixing up old robots or just messing around with designs, until 5:30. As soon as the second hand came around, he’d be sprinting to change into nicer clothes--ones that hadn’t yet been subjected to the oil and grease stains the basement and garage had provided to the rest of his wardrobe. Then off to Castiel’s he went.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the support this work has received so far! You guys are the best!  
> Please keep in mind, a good portion of this chapter was added last minute and is unbeta'd. Thanks!

After five weeks of driving to the Novak’s house every Thursday evening (and Tuesdays during the third and fourth weeks), Dean and Castiel had developed a reliable routine. Dean would hang with Ash in the basement, fixing up old robots or just messing around with designs, until 5:30. As soon as the second hand came around, he’d be sprinting to change into nicer clothes--ones that hadn’t yet been subjected to the oil and grease stains the basement and garage had provided to the rest of his wardrobe. Then off to Castiel’s he went. He made sure to always arrive at exactly 6:00. One time he hadn’t and well… let’s just say Castiel hadn’t been happy about it. (“You’re late.” “Sorry man… got caught up… traffic and…” “I have only requested that you be on time. It is now 6:27.” “I’ll leave earlier from now on, promise.” Castiel had sighed and gestured for Dean to come in. “Our food is getting cold.” Dean would swear he caught Castiel intermittently glaring at him for the rest of the night.)

Castiel had realized after the first two weeks that Dean was missing dinner on Thursday nights. Since then, he had insisted on providing dinner for Dean before they started studying, and damn was he a good cook. So, maybe he wasn’t all bad, but he was still a jackass, Dean had to remind himself over and over. Which actually wasn’t all too difficult when he was forced to sit through nearly an hour of excruciating silence simply because Castiel refused to clutter the Novak’s pristine dining room table with both food and schoolbooks at the same time. After that, things went on as they had since the beginning. Castiel attempted (and usually failed) to explain what exactly he was having trouble with, and they worked through it together until 8:00. If Dean happened to stay a little later sometimes, he would blame it on the time lost for dinner. Not because he liked the way Castiel tilted his head when he was concentrating. Or because his hair looked gorgeous after he had been running his hands through it in frustration. Never because he was attracted to the damn jerk. Of course not.

Thursdays came and went, each one gradually less awkward than the first. This particular Thursday, after spending a couple hours brainstorming designs for a new robot and driving Baby all the way to 379 North Anderson Lane, something was different. Dean’s car wasn’t the only one in the driveway. A sleek, silver corvette was parked beneath the overhang that usually protected Baby from nature’s evils. Dean killed the engine and stepped out just as hesitantly as he had that first night six weeks ago. He had gotten used to Castiel being the only Novak in the residence. Dean, being himself, had nearly forgotten Castiel even had a family. Logically, someone else being at the house shouldn’t have seemed strange, but Dean couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.

He came to a stop at the front door. The place felt unusually quiet. It felt like a slap in the face from what Dean was used to. Castiel was always there, waiting to let him in. (Obviously anyone with working ears could hear the Impala from a mile away). Now, nobody. Dean considered for a moment whether or not he should let himself in. After all, they had established a routine over the past month or so. Maybe Castiel was on the phone or something. Dean waited. Castiel would be there in a minute.

Two minutes passed. Dean tried peering through the windows, but to no avail. They were tinted, but he knew that already.

Five minutes passed. Dean was pacing around the porch so much he thought he might wear a path into it. Castiel would be so upset. Dean could imagine the way his pretty blue eyes would bulge straight out of his head. But Castiel still hadn’t appeared.

Ten minutes. Not only was Dean now hungry, he was beginning to worry. Castiel had heard him pull Baby up right? He had to. If he didn’t he at least would’ve heard Dean kno… oh shit. Dean had never even bothered to knock on the door. “Fucking dumbass,” he muttered as he rapped his knuckles against the window. Barely five seconds later Dean’s phone was vibrating in his coat pocket.

To: Dean Winchester

From: Castiel

I ahve to cancel tonight. Apologies.

Dean stared at his phone for a solid minute before he could fully process that message. Castiel had to know Dean was there, but he was telling him to leave? On top of that, Castiel perfectionist-to-the-core-of-his-DNA Novak made a spelling mistake? Something was definitely weird, but Dean shrugged and slipped his phone back in his jacket as he turned towards the Impala.

 

The next morning, Ash was enthusiastically describing his new plans for unlocking the government’s secrets (a feat he had attempted multiple times and honestly Dean was shocked the guy hadn’t been arrested yet) while they walked to Dean’s locker. Except standing there, looking awkward and out of place, was the one and only Castiel Novak. Ash kept babbling on as if he hadn’t noticed, but Dean stopped listening. Castiel was standing right in front of him, but he wasn’t Castiel. Castiel Novak was confident, arrogant, and acted as if he owned every place he stepped foot in. The guy standing in front of Dean, blocking his locker, was not that guy.

He looked very much like a lost puppy who had been forced to hide under cardboard boxes for shelter. He looked up to Dean, uncertainty dulling his usually sparkling eyes. The moment Dean had registered it though, it disappeared. Castiel straightened his back, expression neutral.

“I wanted to apologize again for last night,” he said, any trace of uncertainty gone and replaced by his usual confidence. “Also, I must inform you that we can no longer meet on Thursday evenings…” The shrill ring of the warning bell interrupted, and Castiel looked ready to bolt. “Please let me know what other time would be convenient for you.”

“Y-yeah… cool,” Dean stammered as Castiel walked away, wondering exactly what the hell had just happened.

“So I see we’re still waiting on the day Winchester will stop ogling Novak’s ass,” Ash said. Dean turned abruptly to see Ash leaning against the row of lockers and giving Dean a sympathetic look. “Get over him. For your own good.” Ash clapped Dean on the shoulder as he turned towards his own first period class.

~~~~~~~~~~~

From then on, Castiel texted Dean every Tuesday to either confirm or cancel their scheduled sessions. They weren't elaborate texts. They were simple and straight to the point, much like Castiel himself. At some point he started asking Dean to meet on Mondays and Wednesdays too.

Castiel, who was somehow becoming more tolerable. Spending time with him continued to get easier even though he still didn't talk much. But Dean was getting used to that. He actually managed to get a lot of his own work done when he was at Castiel's. It didn't make sense but Dean wasn't about to question it. He was basically getting paid to do homework and his grades were improving. Things were going great. That is, until they weren't.

 

Dean and Castiel had finished clearing the dining room table from their dinner and were beginning to unpack their books, ready to settle in for the next hour and a half. Castiel would fail to explain his struggle with AP Physics, and Dean would convince himself he was helping while he worked on his essay for English Literature.

He was quietly humming Led Zeppelin's _Black Country Woman_ when Castiel seemingly stopped breathing. He had gone stone still, inclining his head towards the front door. What the hell? For a moment, they both just stood there, Dean raising an eyebrow at Castiel in a silent question of _what the fuck are you doing now?_ He was about to shrug it off as another of Castiel's weird quirks when Castiel grabbed his wrist and seriously dude? Castiel was running, like actually running. Not that Dean wanted to follow him, but he didn't really have a choice.

Castiel dragged Dean back through the kitchen, along a connected hallway that Dean hadn't noticed before, and downstairs. Dean threw his bag over his shoulder as he ran to keep up (and seriously, not falling on his face down those stairs was really difficult with Castiel constantly pulling on his arm). What the fuck was going on? Castiel pushed Dean through the door to a bedroom (presumably his own) and ushered him into the walk-in closet where yet another door was hidden.

"Dude!" Dean screamed, wrenching his wrist out of Castiel's strangely tight grasp. "What the fuck are you doing?" Castiel didn't answer him, just stood, rooted to the spot. After a moment of craning his neck slightly, for no apparent reason, he let out a breath and slumped against the wall.

"I apologize," he said. "That was. . ."

"Rude?" Dean rubbed his wrist gently. The skin was tinged red where Castiel had grabbed him. Castiel looked up at him, eyes wide, before looking back down at the concrete floor, considering for a moment, and nodded. "Don't think I'm okay with this. I'm not. You're fucking crazy."

"I understand."

"Really? Then why the fuck am I down here in some creepy ass secret room?" For once, Castiel looked like he was going to answer Dean's question. Fucking finally. The moment didn't last though. Instead Castiel was shoving Dean against the wall, hand covering his mouth as he stared intently at the ceiling. With that, Dean panicked, eyes going wider than they probably ever have. This is it. Castiel Novak is going to tie him up and all his jackass friends are gonna come beat the living shit out of him. He wouldn't be able to see Sammy graduate and go to college like he always dreamed. He had one thing to do, Don't Die, and he failed.

Castiel was much closer than Dean would like, but he stayed silent. Dean tried to push him off, but as it turns out, Varsity baseball pitchers are fucking jacked. Castiel didn't move an inch. That was when Dean heard them. There were footsteps directly above them, and a woman's voice was calling out Castiel's name. Confused, Dean looked to Castiel (as if he could look any place else in their current position), but what he saw, he definitely hadn't expected.

Castiel looked scared. His glance flickered between Dean and the door for a few moments, before he seemed to make up his mind.

"Stay here," he said as he removed his hand from Dean's mouth. He backed away, slowly retreating towards the door. As his hand closed around the knob, he turned back. "Please. I'll explain later." He opened the door before turning around and addressing Dean one last time. "I suggest telling your family you'll be staying with a friend tonight." Then he was gone, door shut firmly behind him.

Dean stared at the door for who knows how long. Seconds. Minutes. Hours. He tried opening it just after Castiel had left, but it was locked. Of course. After a while, he resigned himself to the fact that Castiel might not be coming back, so he went to survey the room. The size of it was surprising. Dean figured it was around the same size as his own room, probably a little smaller. The place was fully furnished, too! There was an open door on the far side of the room which looked like yet another closet, and next to it, a full size mirror. A few lamps were scattered around, likely to make up for the lack of windows. Speaking of windows, there were none. Zero. Zilch. No escape. Giving up, Dean laid down on the rug in the center of the room. This thing was almost as soft as his mattress. Holy shit.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket, debating who to call. Ash might try to attack the house with a crossbow if he knew Dean was trapped here, and Charlie would be right on board with him. Not that Dean didn't want to get the hell out of here. He did. Whatever Castiel had planned, though, Dean wanted to face himself. He didn't need a rescue squad.

He finally decided to take Castiel's advice and call Mary. He asked all his usual questions first, making sure Sammy got home alright and the two of them had food for dinner. Then, he had to lie. Dean hated lying to Mary, but he had no other choice. The woman was an angel, and she already had enough to worry about without Dean telling her he was locked in a secret room inside this asshole's closet.

Dean lost track of time as he lay there, still wondering why he was there in the first place. His brain was helpful in providing hypothetical scenarios. Maybe Castiel was going to let him starve down here. Maybe the rest of his team was going to come torture him. He entertained the idea that Castiel had double-booked his night and some girl had come by, but he quickly dismissed it. Part of Castiel's reputation lay in the fact that he had refused almost every girl who flirted with him for as long as anyone could remember. Dean suspected Castiel simply never learned how to flirt back. The guy was that awkward.

As Dean lay there, contemplating what his last words should be, he heard someone moving in the adjacent room. He pushed himself into a sitting position as Castiel inched the door open. Dean grinned. Castiel looked like he was trying to gently approach a wounded animal.

"I don't bite y'know," Dean called out. Castiel stopped as if he was surprised to see him there.

"You appear calmer now," he said, shutting the door quietly behind himself.

"Well it's," Dean paused to check the time on his phone, "8:30 so I should have left your house by now, and yet here I am locked in some creepy room hidden in your closet which by the way, kind of weird." He waved his hand around, brushing away the problem. "So I figure if you're going to kill me, may as well minimize the casualties. I didn't call for help or anything so I'm basically trapped here. . ."

"You think. . . I would want to hurt you?" Castiel looked genuinely confused, and since Dean was probably never leaving this room he may as well admit that it looked adorable.

"Well, duh. You're some big shot athlete. Captain of the best and most homophobic Varsity baseball team in the country." Was Castiel... not trying to kill him? Dean thought he saw him wince at the mention of the entire team's more than obvious homophobia.

"Dean. I brought you down here to keep you safe." Huh? No, that couldn't be right. He was dreaming. That's all. Not that he remembered falling asleep, but who ever does? "I told you I would explain, so let me." He sat down beside Dean on the rug.

"Yes. Please do," Dean watched Castiel expectantly. Finally. Castiel just glared at him again, and wow his eyes looked like ice.

"I was not expecting my parents home tonight," he explained. "They. . . would not approve of your being here."

"They hired me," Dean interrupted. "Why w-"

"No." Castiel somehow managed to intensify his glare. Seriously, someone needed to paint that guy's eyes. Even though his stare was kind of inhumanely creepy sometimes, his eyes were astounding. "Dean. I hired you specifically as my tutor." Oh. Now that brought Dean out of his thoughts.

"What? Why?" Dean had assumed Mrs. Moseley had asked him because he has straight A's in Physics. Castiel had asked for him? Belatedly, he noticed Castiel looking down, attempting to hide the faint blush rising to his cheeks.

"I.. I wanted to get to know you," he finally said. He looked nervous and a little scared like he thought maybe Dean was dangerous which was altogether stupid. Dean had spent the past three years with only three friends, including his little brother. Why would he hurt someone for actually trying to be a nice person?

"You never needed a tutor," Dean said, words coming out soft as Castiel's words clicked into place. He had suspected since the beginning that Castiel didn't actually need any help, but ignored it because he was getting paid to be there. The moment the words left Dean's mouth, Castiel was pushing himself up, off the rug and away from Dean, but before he could retreat from the room entirely, Dean was up and grabbing his wrist.

"Hey. Castiel," he said gently coaxing the other boy to look at him again. "You okay?" He placed a finger beneath Castiel's chin and turned his head so Dean could see his eyes again. Just as he thought. Makeup. It was some trick Charlie had showed him once when he needed to cover some bruises. Dean brought his hand up to trace over Castiel's temple, just to be sure. "Did they do this to you?" he whispered. Was Castiel hiding from his parents? It must be true, but why? Castiel was leaning into his touch like that same lost puppy Dean had seen only two weeks ago.

Then he was pulling away, donning the same detached expression Dean had grown accustomed to. "If you would like to leave, I urge you not to do so until after midnight when they are sure to be asleep."

"I'm not leaving," Dean said before even considering whether or not he should. _Good going, Winchester_. Castiel just nodded.

"In that case, I apologize. . . There is no bed for you to sleep on."

"Hey no worries. This thing is softer than my bed anyway." Dean gestured to the rug they were both still standing on.

Castiel looked at him, confused. "Do you not have one?"

"What? Dude of c-" Castiel was smirking. Actually smirking at him. Really? "Was that a joke?" Castiel cast his gaze down at the rug, and turned to leave. Again. As he reached the door, he stopped to look at Dean. Apparently his eyes changed shade depending on his emotions. Those silly emotions he would probably deny even having. Right now, his eyes looked like the clear blue of the ocean in the Bahamas, right where it meets the sand. "I only ask that you don't search through the things in this room. They are. . . personal." _Okay, weird_.

Though now that Dean had direct orders not to investigate, he really wanted to. Nothing looked out of the ordinary for a teenager's room (besides the fact that this wasn't exactly a bedroom). Although. . . huh. That was unusual. Dean pushed himself off the rug and shuffled over towards the closet. _A closet inside a closet. Could Castiel be any more weird?_ The door was already open, so Dean only moved it an extra inch or so. Alright, now that was unusual.

Inside the closet was an assortment of girl's clothes. Skirts, skinny jeans, flowery shirts, and even a few dresses. Dean glanced back to make sure the door was still shut. These couldn't belong to Castiel. For fuck's sake, he embodied the stereotypical jock! Confused, Dean shut the closet door again. Maybe Castiel had a sister. Probably. There was no other reasonable explanation.

Castiel returned not long after, thankfully. Dean had been laying on that rug and staring at the ceiling for so long he was beginning to think he would go insane.

"I thought you could use some company," Castiel said, holding up a six pack.

"Not that I mind, but dude, it's a Tuesday," Dean replied, sitting up. "Being in school while hungover only makes it worse." Castiel shrugged and sat crosslegged across from Dean, opening the first bottle.

"Suit yourself," he said as he brought the bottle to his lips. Dean swore he never fully understood the definition of obscene until that moment. Castiel closed his eyes while he sipped his beer, treating it like the most delicious thing he'd ever tasted. He circled the tip of his tongue along the outer rim, and Dean had to will himself not to think about how that tongue would feel on his dick. Instead, he grabbed his own bottle and chugged half of it down in one go. If he was spending the night with Castiel, he was gonna do it drunk.

"Truth or dare," Castiel said. Dean gave him a questioning look as he took another sip from his beer. They had each already finished their first and Castiel at least seemed pleasantly buzzed. So there was no telling where this would go.

"Truth or dare with two people. . . that's not lame at all," Dean commented. Castiel simply shrugged, sucked down the remainder of his beer (which _holy shit_ he had to be doing that on purpose), and repeated himself.

"Truth or dare, Winchester." Rolling his eyes, Dean resigned himself to the game. What's the worst that could happen?

As it turned out, the worst that could happen was far from what Dean could have expected and much much worse if anyone ever found out. If word got out, Dean would never hear the end of it. Yeah, he totally screwed himself over this time. But he was drunk and at the moment, he simply could not care less.

"Dare," Dean responded. They had gone back and forth a few times already with questions like "if you could kill one person, no consequences, who would you choose?" and "which Hogwarts house would you want to be in?" Honestly, Dean was getting bored. So, he chose dare. They were hiding out in Castiel's basement, it's not like he would have to go streaking or anything.

When Castiel got up to search through the closet, Dean turned to watch, leaning back on his elbows as he did. _What the hell was he doing?_ Then Castiel emerged, holding up a pair of lacey pink panties. Dean's eyes widened about as much as they could without popping out of his head entirely. Okay, so maybe the stuff in the closet _was_ Castiel's.

"Put them on," Castiel said, voice deep and commanding. Fuck. Castiel wanted him to wear panties. Pink lace panties nonetheless. There had to be a rule against this kind of shit, right? But instead of protesting, Dean just stared, wondering what it would feel like. Lace panties made girls look so sexy and he even had a faint memory of a guy in them before which, when he thought about it, was unbelievably hot. He had jerked off to a faint memory of a night that might not have happened a few times over the past few weeks. What would it feel like to be the one wearing them?

Castiel cleared his throat, bringing Dean back to the present. He stared down at Dean, eyes so intense and unbelievably _blue_. "Now," he said. And Dean nodded, standing to take the panties from the other boy's hand. Castiel kept staring as Dean headed into the closet to change out of his jeans (although really what was the point? These panties wouldn't hide anything. Castiel was basically gonna see his dick anyway).

Dean slid his boxers off and pulled the panties up in their place. They slipped comfortably over his hips, and the material was surprisingly. . . nice. Dean smiled to himself, and, leaving his jeans and boxers in a heap on the closet floor, strode out to where Castiel was once again resting on the carpet. Dean coughed to get his attention and blushed when he saw the look on Castiel's face.

Castiel was looking at him like he was a goddamn Adonis. His eyes raked over Dean's bare thighs and over his hips and waist, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips the whole time.

"Take off your shirt," he said, tone more urgent now than when he originally brought the panties out. Dean knew he had the power now. He shook his head and went to kneel on the plush rug, resting back on his heels.

He fluttered his eyelashes, teasing Castiel, and said, "Truth or dare?"

"Game over," Castiel answered immediately, eyes never leaving Dean's body. Dean shook his head again and repeated the question. "Dare," Castiel practically growled in response. Dean cocked his head to the side, exaggerating the lines of his jaw and collar. He looked Castiel up and down, noting the way his chest rose and fell with each heavy breath. Seeing the growing erection pushing at Castiel's jeans, Dean smiled.

"Tell me exactly what you want to do to me right now." At that, Castiel's eyes, hungry and blown almost entirely black with lust, flew up to meet Dean's.

His voice threatened an underlying growl as he spoke. "I want to pin you against the wall and lavish your neck until you are marked all over so everyone knows you're mine. I'll run my tongue along that sweet spot on your collar while I stroke your beautiful cock." Dean felt the blood rushing to his dick, too drunk and horny to question how Castiel knew about his sweet spot. He forced himself to hold eye contact the entire time Castiel spoke, ignoring his growing erection pushing on the seam of the panties. "I'll get down on my knees and suck you through the panties until they're soaked. Then, once your so hard you can't think, I'll lick your length and circle the head of your cock just like you watched me do to these bottles. I bet you'd taste so good and warm in my mouth. Fill me up with that thick cock and choke me with it."

"Fuck," Dean swore, breaths heavy and uneven. He was painfully hard, now, cock pushing obscenely on the pink lace.

"Truth or dare?" Castiel asked, never once breaking eye contact.

"Prove it," Dean said, voice low and throaty. Castiel was on him in a second, shoving Dean down so that he was stretched out on the rug. He held Dean's hands above his head as he did exactly what he said he would. His tongue lavished the sweet spot on Dean's collar while he teased around Dean's erection. Dean felt his cool fingers dancing around his inner thighs, coming closer to his erection and skirting around it. "Fuck. Just fucking touch me," he breathed out.

Castiel raised himself to glare at Dean, and _really? Now_ he was glaring?! But then his hand was on Dean's dick, palming him through the panties while Castiel stared down at him. Fuck. That was so much hotter than it should've been. Dean let out a soft moan, but the light touches weren't enough. He needed to feel Castiel's mouth around his cock. Before he could    open his mouth to tell Castiel to get a move on, the dark haired boy was pulling Dean's shirt off instead. Dean raised his shoulders, desperate to feel Castiel everywhere the other boy was willing to touch him. When Dean laid back down, he was completely naked with the exception of Castiel's lace panties. Whereas, Castiel, who was now seated comfortably on Dean's thighs, was fully clothed.

Castiel leaned down and licked Dean's left nipple while he twisted the other lightly between his fingers. Dean couldn't help the undignified moan that escaped his lips. One thing was for sure. Castiel was fucking talented at. . . well, fucking. When Castiel was satisfied with his work, he moved to massage Dean's right nipple with his tongue. And fuck if that didn't feel amazing. Dean brought his hand up, tangling his fingers in Castiel's hair. After another minute of Castiel over-sensitizing his nipples, he tugged, urging Castiel to get back to his painfully hard cock.

Castiel followed willingly. When Dean could feel his hot breath against his erection, he loosened his grip, letting the other boy take control again. Castiel moved forward, ghosting his lips over the outline of Dean's cock, teasing with soft kisses and feather-light touches. Dean moaned obscenely when Castiel finally sucked him through the panties. His mouth felt warm and perfect. Precome mixed with Castiel's saliva, soaking through the panties so Dean could feel the material sticking to his cock.

"More," he begged. "Please. Please, Cas. Need. . . need to feel you." Castiel looked up at Dean through his eyelashes and pulled the panties down Dean's thighs, throwing them carelessly across the floor. He kissed the head of Dean's cock while his hand come up to fondle Dean's balls. Dean groaned through heavy breaths. He had never felt something so wonderful. Castiel's tongue was sliding along Dean's cock, slicking him up before swallowing him down in one go. His nose was brushing against the small hairs at the base of Dean's cock when he moaned. _HolySHIT!_ Dean felt the vibrations run all the way up his spine, lighting him up from the inside out.

Castiel pulled off, stroking with his hand wherever his mouth wasn't currently reaching. Dean wasn't gonna last much longer if he kept this up. He had barely lasted this long. "Cas. . . Cas m'gonna," he managed between breathy moans and whimpers. He tugged on Castiel's hair, urging him off before Dean came down his throat, but Castiel just swallowed him down further, moaning around his cock again and pushing him over the edge. Dean came with another loud moan, fingers tangled tightly in Castiel's hair. Castiel kept moaning obscenely as he swallowed down every last drop.

Once he was finished, Dean lay back, spent and exhausted. Castiel, though. Castiel kneeled between Dean's thighs, finally pulling his erection free and stroking himself as Dean rubbed his thumb over the other boy's hip.

"So beautiful," Castiel whispered. "Laid out so pretty, just for me." He groaned as he pulled his hand along his own cock roughly. Dean watched him, completely entranced by every movement of Castiel's hand, every flutter of his eyelashes as he lost himself in pleasure. When Castiel came, he painted Dean's stomach in white spurts. He braced himself with one hand next to Dean's head while he stroked himself lazily through his orgasm. When he was done, he smirked and leaned down to lap up the come.

Dean thought he would swallow it (and admittedly, just the thought of that was hot. Jesus Christ), but then Castiel's lips were pushing against his own, and Dean parted his lips lazily for Castiel. He tasted Castiel's come in his mouth before realizing what had happened. Castiel kissed him the entire time he coaxed Dean into swallowing. It was salty, and it was not something Dean wanted in his mouth, but Castiel was unrelenting. With the way the dark haired boy was kissing him, Dean thought maybe he could get used to it. . . eventually. He fell asleep a few minutes later with Castiel running his fingers lightly up and down his chest.

 

When his alarm started blaring _Kashmir_ at 6:00 sharp the next morning, Dean bolted upright with no idea where he was or how he got there. Within a couple minutes, the memories of the previous night had returned along with a massive headache (although he still had no idea how this blanket got on top of him and Castiel was no longer in the room with him). He groaned, rubbing his hands over his face. What the fuck had he done. He stretched his arms above his head, debating whether or not to check if the door was unlocked. What if he went to leave and Castiel's parents saw him? Sure, they're grown adults, but people in the south, Lawrence included, had been known to be relatively violent towards anyone who was openly queer. Dean had never met the Novaks, but considering the way Castiel reacted to their arrival, not to mention the makeup Dean assumed was covering a fresh bruise, he definitely did not want to. And at 6:00 in the morning? No thanks.

Figuring he had more than enough time to wait for Castiel to wake up (which wow that was a weird thought), Dean grabbed his clothes from the closet and went through his morning workout routine as best he could in his current situation. He had to skip his usual run for obvious reasons, and the room unfortunately wasn't equipped with weights or any other sort of equipment Dean could take advantage of. By the time he finished his routine plus compensation for not running, his shirt was soaked through with sweat, hair damp against his forehead and neck. Of course, only then did he realize he had no other clothes with him.

Castiel, master of poor timing that he seemed to be, opened the door as Dean was once again peeling the shirt off his back. He cleared his throat, awkwardly alerting Dean to his presence. Dean ended up spinning in search of the source of the noise, losing his balance, and falling flat on his ass. _Good job, Winchester_ , he thought.

He looked up to Castiel who may have been in the worst state Dean had ever seen him. And he still looked great. His hair was a mess, sticking up in every direction imaginable, and his expression was still groggy with sleep. Dean could definitely get used to these other, more well-hidden, sides of Castiel he had been seeing lately. This wasn't the same Castiel Novak he had instinctually avoided for the past four years. He wasn't an entirely different person, but he was different. He was soft-spoken and kind. He treated Dean as if the entire state of Kansas didn't hate him. If only that was the Castiel Novak whom Dean went to school with.

Castiel stayed in the doorway and looked at Dean hesitantly before speaking. When he did, he said more than Dean had probably ever heard him say all at once before. Of course, Dean was more focused on the deep, scratchy sound of Castiel's just-woken-up-and-not-ready-to-deal-with-your-shit voice than what he was actually saying and had to ask him to repeat it all.

The frustration was obvious in Castiel's tone, but thankfully he wasn't glaring at Dean (probably didn't have the energy for the expression's inhumane intensity) as he said, "I intended on waking you with enough time for you to go home before school. However, my parents left much later than I expected and as it is now," he checked his watch, "7:32, you will likely be late if you do so. The decision is yours, but if you want to be on time, you are free to shower here and borrow any of my or my brothers' clothes for the day." Huh. Castiel had brothers. He waited for Dean to nod, considering the information given to him. "In case you do not feel the urge to leave right away, I will have breakfast ready in 10 minutes."

As soon as Dean nodded in acknowledgement, Castiel left, leaving the door open behind him. The decision was Dean's to make. Not only whether or not he would be late to school, but more importantly, whether or not he was willing to go to school wearing Castiel's clothes. If he showered here, would he smell like Castiel's shampoo all day? Would anyone notice? Did Dean trust Castiel not to point it out to anyone? Dean had no idea how to even react to these thoughts, these possibilities. One thing was for sure, if he stayed here, showered here, borrowed Castiel's clothes, Ash and Charlie would know immediately.

 

Dean knew how to shower quickly. He was in and out in five minutes, and in three more minutes, he was dressed in an outfit Castiel had helped him find. They sorted through almost all of Castiel's wardrobe and half of what Castiel said was Michael's. ("He didn't take everything with him when he left.") Dean probably would've spent the next fifteen minutes staring at himself in the full length mirror if Castiel hadn't yelled at him. Apparently, Castiel liked getting to school early, and Dean was wasting time. Not that Dean cared. He was completely enamored with the way these pants hugged his hips. The t-shirt, on the other hand, fit so snugly on his chest, Dean thought it might rip.

The shirt was Castiel's although it was a few years old and he didn't wear it often. Since the majority of Castiel's clothes were about two sizes too small for Dean (he had gotten lucky with the shirt), the pants were Michael's. Dean didn't ask questions, assumed Michael was an older brother. Besides, he was too busy wondering if any of the Novak kids understood the joy of loose jeans and correctly sized shirts. Castiel may have been smaller than Dean, but he wasn't _that_ much smaller. Although, for as much as he complained, Dean never quite got over the way those pants fit. If the next day he went out and bought a pair in the same size and style (from a cheaper brand, _jesus chris_ t these things were expensive), it was a complete coincidence.

By the time Dean had been dragged back upstairs, Castiel had prepared a breakfast sandwich for each of them. However, according to Castiel, they were already late. So Dean barely got the thing in his hands before Castiel was ushering him onto the front porch and locking the door behind himself. He couldn't help a small smile when he realized the domesticity of their situation. For Castiel's sake, he just tried not to laugh.

Dean was unlocking the Impala's doors when he heard the rumble of an engine from the garage. Curious, he turned to see an old, beat-up 1978 Lincoln Continental slowly backing out. He nearly doubled over laughing. Stuck-up, modern perfectionist Castiel freaking Novak owned the beat-up Lincoln Continental Dean smirked at every morning when he pulled Baby into the LH parking lot. As much as he appreciated classic cars and treasured his own, that thing was a piece of junk.

"Nice car!" he yelled, laughing even harder when Castiel glared at him. Castiel stopped next to where Dean stood in the Novak's driveway. Dean wondered briefly if he would actually lean across the seat to manually roll the passenger side window down, but instead Castiel just stepped out.

"For your information," he said, with the hint of a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth, "I like it." Dean chuckled, purposely not looking at Castiel as he did. They discussed whether or not Dean should follow Castiel to school, considering the looks they might get (Castiel for being so much later than usual, Dean for being early). In the end, Dean decided he would drive around for a while before heading in.

He turned back to Castiel one last time before climbing into the Impala. "Hey Cas-," he started. Castiel turned to look back at Dean and smiled. Actually smiled. Wow. Dean's brain almost short circuited before he could mutter, "Thanks." Then Castiel, Cas, was climbing into his beat-up car and Dean was following him down the driveway, back to the real world.

Dean wasn't sure what he was expecting from that day, but the way everything went on as normal just felt wrong. Things had changed last night. Castiel wasn't Castiel. He was Cas. If he weren't such a big shot athlete, Dean knew he would basically define the word _nerd_. For fuck's sake, the guy had an entire collection of sweater vests.

Ash and Charlie were on him the second he stepped out of the Impala.

"What's with the shirt?"

"Is it laundry day? Did you have to borrow Sam's clothes again?"

"Wait why does your hair smell different?"

"And dude, why are your pants so tight?"

"Good morning to you, too," Dean said.

"You didn't answer me."

"You're barely even acknowledging us. Hello, earth to Dean," Ash waved a hand in front of his face as they walked towards the school.

"Yes. I hear you," Dean pushed Ash's hand away. "I'll tell you about it later."

"There's an it?" Charlie asked. "I sincerely thought you were wearing your little brother's clothes again." She put her hand on Ash's arm, stopping them both in front of the doors to the school. "There's an _it_ ," she said, emphasizing the astonishment in her voice.

"Uh-huh," Dean nodded and kept walking. "C'mon." He opened the front door, Ash and Charlie scrambling behind him to catch up.

"You have to tell me everything in compsci. First period today," Charlie said.

"Hell no! Not without me!" Ash argued. They went on about who should hear the details first and when, but Dean tuned them both out. He made his way to his locker and was shrugging off his jacket when he saw Cas. Admittedly, he was at the other end of the hallway and pretty much nowhere near Dean, but something about Cas in his varsity letter jacket, hair slightly disheveled, and blatantly ignoring everyone around him suddenly made Dean's heart do somersaults. Fuck. He was so screwed.

"Hey faggot!" someone screamed from behind him. Right. The rest of the baseball team. Cas's team.

"Finally decide to dress the part?" someone else said when they were standing next to him. The whole group of them laughed. Dean felt his face turning red, remembering why he stopped wearing tight shirts. They used to show off his muscles. Now, he got this reaction.

"Fuck off," he said, turning around to close his locker. _Where the fuck did that confidence come from?_ he thought.

"What'd you say?" the guy said, getting probably as close to Dean's face as he could. _Yep, bad idea_. He shoved Dean into the thankfully now closed locker. "Don't you fucking talk to me like that, you cocksucker." Goddammit. Dean had gone months without getting himself into this kind of situation. Why did he have to let this happen now? He knew he couldn't push this guy off. Dean may have been taller, but he was surrounded by the entire varsity team. The boy who had shoved him into his locker had a hand around Dean's throat, holding him in place and threatening to squeeze. If Dean did anything, a fist to his face would be the least of his worries.

"Stop." It was said quietly, but Dean knew that deep voice all too well. He also knew just how threatening that voice could sound, and apparently so did the team surrounding him. With that one word, the crowd parted for Castiel. Only the boy holding Dean against his locker remained. Castiel didn't bother walking up to him, opting instead to stay at the edge of the crowd. "He's not worth it," he said, focusing his stare on the boy who was now nearly choking Dean. The boy looked to Castiel questioningly, but then dropped his hand. He shoved Dean against the locker one more time before walking off.

Dean slumped down to the floor, desperately trying to bring air back into his lungs. He half expected Cas to check if he was okay, but when he looked up, the entire team was gone. Cas included.

Ash and Charlie, however, were rushing to help Dean to his feet. Ash threatened to ruin all their lives while Charlie fussed over Dean, making sure he didn't have any bruises. Dean waved them both off, told them not to worry about it. "Isolated incident," he said.

"Dean," Charlie started, and she had that tone that Dean immediately knew she was ten seconds away from kicking a guy in the balls. This should be fun. "I don't think you should go back to Castiel's anymore. Don't, okay? Just listen to me," she said, stopping any arguments Dean may have had. "They wouldn't have thought twice about killing you in this hallway. What do you think they would do in the privacy of someone's home?" She was right. Dean knew she was. But he also knew that Cas had stopped them from seriously injuring him. That Cas had kept him safe on more than one occasion now. Maybe he was being irrational, but he just could not bring himself to care.

"We'll talk about this later," Dean said, grabbing his bag from the floor. He stalked off to the compsci lab before either of his friends could argue.

By the time lunch came around, Ash and Charlie seemed to have forgotten about whatever mysterious reason Dean had for his outfit. Instead, they were both trying to talk him out of ever looking at Castiel Novak again for the rest of his life. Dean ignored pretty much every word they said.

He continued to meet with Cas every Tuesday, along with the occasional Monday or Wednesday. Their dinners became gradually less awkward. They even learned how to make conversation, although that usually meant Dean ranting about the assholes he put up with on a daily basis or Cas describing (in excruciating detail) whatever he found interesting that day. (He once spent a half hour explaining the importance of bees.) Dean enjoyed the time nonetheless, and at some point he even started looking forward to enjoying Cas's cooking.

Yes, they did ignore the fact that Dean was technically there as Castiel's tutor some nights. The blowjobs were amazing. Every. Single. Time.

Still, his Friday routine never changed. He either got drunk with Ash and Charlie (who more and more often complained about how they had heard enough about Castiel Novak's eyes or hair or lips to last a lifetime) or babysat Sammy, although _Sam_ always insisted he didn't need his big brother to babysit him. For once in Dean's life, things were generally good.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean stared at his phone, dumbfounded. Castiel could not be serious right now; they never got together for tutoring on Fridays. Anyway, did he think Dean’s life revolved around him? No, he had his own life with his own friends, one of whom had kidnapped him for the afternoon. Yes, okay, he would rather be "tutoring" Castiel than sitting in a basement, but that wasn't the point.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this took long enough. First of all, I am so sorry for the obnoxious delay in posting this chapter. I hope the content makes up for how late and short it is. Especially since this was the first part of the story I ever wrote. I am so excited for you guys to see how these characters introduced me to their story. I had to do a little digging to figure out the beginning, but now here we are and I am rambling! I'm almost done, promise.  
> I thought it would be appropriate to give you the quote that inspired this whole thing now, since this was initially the first chapter.
> 
> What's the point of being in love?   
> What's the point of being with someone you can't have?   
> I know exactly how this will end but for some reason I can't help myself.   
> No I just can't help myself.  
> -She Likes by Forever the Sickest Kids

Five minutes. Just five more minutes until freedom. Well, as close to freedom as Dean could get on a Friday afternoon when Ash was insisting upon his presence at the robotics meeting. If this goddamn bell would just ring already so that he could get out of this hell hole! Oh, sorry. Mr. Singer, his eighth period history teacher, preferred it to be called a classroom, or, more generally speaking, Lawrence High. However, in Dean’s opinion, Hell Hole was a much more accurate term.

He groaned as he glanced at the clock that continuously taunted him from above the door. Three minutes. How were there still three minutes left? That clock moved so goddamn slow, he would have enough time to write out his will and then die of boredom. He would swear on it. Instead, he directed his attention to the front of the room where Mr. Singer was standing behind his podium, as usual, lecturing. About what, Dean had no idea. As usual. Hopefully, Ash took notes today--he almost always did. Dean could copy them during robotics instead of listening to Ash drone on about recruiting more innocent, clueless freshmen.

Senior year had only started three months ago and Dean was already anxious to graduate. Of course, Mary still wanted to know where he would be going to college next year, and even though he wasn’t a genius like Ash, she figured he could get a scholarship to a school like Drexel. All he had to do was pass his classes this year. No problem. Of course, he still hadn't told her his real plans for the future, but that could wait.

Dean’s thoughts were abruptly (and rudely) interrupted by the shrill ringing of the final bell. “Freedom,” he groaned, slinging his ungodly heavy bag over his shoulder. What was in there anyway?

“Not quite. Don’t forget, your ass is mine this afternoon, Winchester,” Ash said, pointing at Dean as he walked backwards out of the classroom. “Robotics. I’ve got you til 7.”

“My ass has never been and will never be yours,” Dean replied, smirking as he followed Ash into the hallway, towards his locker. “But I am spending my Friday afternoon in a stuffy basement building a robot with a bunch of geeks. Thanks.” He loved it, even though he would rather spend the afternoon working at the auto shop. It was a given that since cars were way more complicated, they were way more fun to work on. His ’67 Chevy Impala was his baby. However, spending enough time at robotics with Ash gave him an excuse to avoid the rest of humanity, so he couldn’t complain.

“Somewhere you’d rather be?” Ash asked, trying his best to sound offended.

“Maybe there is, Ash. You know, I could be putting in extra hours in the shop, getting some spending cash.”

“Dude. The shop is closed on Friday afternoons,” Ash said, staring at Dean incredulously. “Oh no. No, man. C’mon. Don’t tell me you’d rather be tutoring that Novak kid!” he yelled, almost loud enough for everyone in the hallway to hear. He took the faint color rising to Dean’s cheeks as a screaming yes--the death stare, however, was a warning to shut up before he ended up with a broken neck. “Really? You do realize it’s Friday, right? The beginning of the weekend? I’ve barely even seen you lately. You spend all your time tutoring that dick. Just let him fail! Who gives a shit?”

“Guy’s got rich parents, Ash. They pay good money, and I don’t have to do very much,” Dean said, attempting to defend himself while simultaneously willing his cheeks to fade back to a normal color.

“Alright. You keep telling yourself that,” Ash drawled. He stopped with his hand on the handle of the basement door. “I don’t know what’s going on there, but whatever it is, it doesn’t matter. You’re still stuck with me this afternoon.” Grinning, he opened the door and shoved Dean through ahead of himself.

 

Three hours later, Dean had finished copying Ash’s notes from almost every class they shared and stuffed them back into Ash’s old, worn backpack. Actually, he had finished copying them over an hour ago, but he had decided to make himself as comfortable as possible against the wall instead of bothering to get up and help any clueless freshmen navigate the equipment without hurting themselves. Judging from how many underclassmen were still hanging around, Dean figured Ash must have hypnotized them while he wasn’t paying attention. Whoever had decided to make Ash president of the robotics team probably had no idea what they were signing themselves up for. Dean almost felt bad for them except Cas just texted him, and he had priorities.

To: Dean

From: Castiel

You never informed me you were not planning on tutoring me today.

Dean stared at his phone, dumbfounded. Castiel could not be serious right now; they never got together for tutoring on Fridays. Anyway, did he think Dean’s life revolved around him? No, he had his own life with his own friends, one of whom had kidnapped him for the afternoon. Yes, okay, he would rather be "tutoring" Castiel than sitting in a basement, but that wasn't the point. Slightly confused, Dean wrote back:

To: Castiel

From: Dean

its friday. didn’t think i had to tell you

Before Dean could think to open an app on his phone for another distraction, Ash was hovering above him with a disappointed stare.

“You know, I don’t ask you to show up so you can sit against a wall. Are you going to do _anything_ before build season starts?” he asked.

After he glanced around Ash to make sure most of the “new recruits” had left, Dean smiled, slipped his phone in his pocket, and hoisted himself up from the concrete floor. “Of course I am. What kind of person do you think I am?” He clapped Ash on the shoulder as he walked past, pointing to last season’s robot and saying, “I’m just gonna fix him and make sure nobody took their tinkering too far.” He couldn't be sure, but he had a feeling Ash was rolling his eyes at him.

Dean focused his attention on his work, attempting to ignore the vibrating phone in his pocket, but his thoughts kept trailing back to Castiel. He was only ignoring him to avoid giving Ash the satisfaction of being right, but Ash always got that satisfaction anyway. So, why bother ignoring Castiel’s texts? That only accomplished a whole lot of nothing.

Satisfied that nobody had subjected the robot to their own artistic expression, Dean stepped away and pulled out his phone to see five new messages--all from Castiel.

To: Dean

From: Castiel

Do not assume.

To: Dean

From: Castiel

Your mother informed me you remained at the school for a robotics meeting. I was not aware you are on that team. Ash is a bad influence.

To: Dean

From: Castiel

So that you are not surprised and subsequently angry when you return home, I should inform you that your mother is insisting I wait for you and join you for dinner.

To: Dean

From: Castiel

As you are not replying to any of my texts, I can only infer you are busy at robotics. However, I wish to inquire what time you plan on returning home.

To: Dean

From: Castiel

Do not assume from my previous text that spending time with your mother is awkward for me. Unlike many people, she is capable of intelligent conversation and makes excellent chocolate chip cookies. This time is quite enjoyable.

"Oh my god Cas," Dean muttered. "You have got to be kidding me." Castiel might've thought he was the greatest person to ever grace the earth with his presence, but even he could not hold up against Mary and her chocolate chip cookies. It was basically a fact that Dean’s mother was an angel. John had never been immune to her graces, and apparently Cas wasn’t either.

"So it _is_ Novak." Dean practically jumped out of his skin at the voice. Right, Ash. Basement. Robotics. He shoved his phone back into his pocket and steeled himself for whatever Ash might start badgering him with.

"Asshole couldn't get his schedule straight. Not really my problem," he muttered. He just had to get out of here unscathed so he could figure out why the fuck Castiel Novak showed up at his house. He had no doubts Cas had an easy way of finding Dean's home address, but he was gonna find out how the fuck he did that too. Fuck, if Cas knew where Dean lived, who else knew? He didn't even want to think about what would happen if the rest of the baseball team got their hands on that information. He had to get home.

His backpack was slung haphazardly over his shoulder, only partially zippered, books nearly falling out onto the dusty floor when Ash grabbed him by the shoulder, effectively stopping Dean in his tracks.

"Dude," he pulled at Dean's shoulder again, urging him to turn around. "You need to calm down." Goddammit, he was acting as if Dean was about to tear someone apart limb from limb. Dean shrugged his hand off. He did not have time to deal with this shit.

"I'm fine, Ash. Just late for dinner." The basement door probably weighed about as much as Dean himself, but he pushed it open, walking out into the bitter winter air. Considering how much he was panicking over Castiel being at his fucking house with Mary at the moment, Dean should've been running to his car. Thank god it hadn't started snowing yet or else he would.

"That's bullshit, and you know it!" Ash screamed after him. Dean elected to ignore him, continuing as calmly as he possibly could. "Goddammit, fucking thick headed piece of shit," he heard Ash muttering behind him. But he didn't look. He was so close to getting the fuck out of here.

"Dean Winchester!" Ash yelled at him again, and this time he sounded closer and slightly out of breath. He was running. Dean stopped five feet from his car, still refusing to face his friend. Fuck his concern. Dean could handle this on his own.

Ash stopped next to him, shooting him a glare that Dean could only interpret as _you're so lucky we're friends or else I'd be murdering you right now_. "Y'know this would be a lot easier if you'd just fucking listen," he said. Dean only raised his eyebrows slightly, telling Ash to get on with it before he left him in the parking lot. "Look, I don't know what's going on there. Fine, you don't have to tell me anything. But we're _worried_." His eyes scanned Dean's face, expecting some sort of response, but none came. "When you're not in school or at work or babysitting Sam, you're with him. And when you're not with him, you're talking about him or you're not listening to us which lately means you're thinking about him." He paused, giving Dean a moment to process what he was saying. Of course, he was right. Ash was always right about pretty much everything, and when he wasn't, Charlie picked up the slack. Those two were very dangerous to be involved with. Yeah, Dean knew exactly where this was going: exactly where he didn't want it to, the one thing he refused to admit to even himself. "I just want to make sure you know what you're getting yourself into," Ash said, voice calmer now.

Dean closed his eyes, breathing in deeply before nodding and stepping away from his best friend. He unlocked the Impala and dropped his bag inside. Not once glancing at Ash watching him from where he stood only five feet away as Dean pulled out of the lot.

 

He arrived home (thankfully without a speeding ticket) only fifteen minutes later. He braced himself for whatever hell would be waiting on the other side of the wooden front door before carefully opening it and stepping inside. Immediately, he was engulfed by the smell of fresh-baked chocolate chip cookies. The kind that smelled like warm cookie dough. The ones Dean knew would be soft to the touch and which would melt in his mouth because only Mary baked those perfect cookies. He slipped his jacket onto a hook by the door, leaving his phone in the pocket without a thought.

He found Mary in the kitchen, leaning leisurely against the counter. A smile graced her lips, filling the whole house with the warmth and graciousness that only she could so effortlessly possess. Dean found himself smiling despite the overwhelming rage and panic he had felt the whole drive here. Despite Castiel.

Castiel who was standing at the stove, wearing the apron Mary had sewn for Dean when he was ten and insisted on baking cookies with her every weekend (and various pies on special occasions). Dean leaned against the doorframe as his eyes drifted over Cas's lean frame. He looked more at ease than Dean had ever seen him before. Even more so than when he was drunk which in Dean's mind could be considered miraculous.

Cas was smiling, though only slightly. Anyone who didn't know him might not notice it. Dean couldn't see his eyes from this angle, but he would bet they were sparkling like a diamond in the sun. He allowed himself to relax, not wanting to disturb the peace that had long since settled over the room.

"Dean!" Mary's eyes sparkled when she noticed her son. He pulled his eyes quickly off of Cas to greet her. Somehow, Dean had managed to get by this long without noticing that his mother's eyes looked exactly like Castiel's. At least, he assumed they would if Cas was ever happy enough for that amount of joy to bleed into every part of his being. Dean could bet he would be beautiful if he did. "I didn't notice you come in." Mary threw her arms around Dean's shoulders, hugging him tightly even though she had to stretch to do so. Dean had been taller than her ever since he hit his growth spurt two years ago.

He wrapped his arms around his mother, nearly forgetting about Castiel entirely as he basked in Mary's glow. Only when he pulled back did he notice Cas averting his eyes, suddenly developing an interest in the hem of Dean's old apron.

"Hey Cas." Cas's gaze flew up to meet Dean's, eyes widening only slightly. Dean expected him to relax when he realized Dean wasn't angry with him, but he quickly turned back towards the stove. Dean would've been disappointed that he didn't even get a "hello" if Mary hadn't started talking.

"Cas here _insisted_ on making dinner tonight." She smiled as she moved to lean back against the counter. "I tried to tell him you wouldn't like stir fry, but for some reason," she shot Dean a _what are you hiding_ look, "he thinks he can convert you." Dean didn't have a chance to respond or suppress the blush steadily rising to his cheeks because Cas decided that this would be an opportune moment to comment.

"It's more a faith in my cooking abilities," he said, daring a glance at Dean as he allowed a smirk briefly across his features. "but I have faith in him." And Dean's stomach was doing somersaults again. _Fucking Castiel No-- no. Nope bad timing. Do not think about fucking Castiel right now._ Dean could already tell tonight was going to be interesting (even if he could manage not to get a hard on for Cas during dinner), and he still had no idea why Cas was in his house.

Dean already knew Castiel was an absurdly talented chef, but never before in his entire life had he tasted vegetables so delicious he ate three servings. He barely managed not to moan around his fork when he first tasted Cas's creation. If Mary hadn't been sitting directly across the table, he might have. Just to mess with Cas of course.

"Castiel's been telling me about your tutoring sessions," Mary said, breaking the calm silence that had permeated the room. Dean nearly choked on his milk. Cas had done what?! Why the fu- "He says you've really helped him in physics." Oh. Right. Dean glared at Cas, barely catching the amused smirk as it flittered across his features.

"Dean's top of our class in physical science," Cas responded. "Having him assigned to me as a tutor is a honor." _Really, Cas?_ Dean thought. _Assigned as your tutor? Way to lay it on thick_. Even though this ordeal wasn't meant to be "an introduction to Dean's boyfriend," it definitely felt that way. Then again, it was never meant to happen at all.

"I'm pretty sure Ash is top in the class," Dean commented, preferring to ignore the immense praise Cas was giving him. Besides, no way was he smarter than Ash. The guy probably could've graduated college already if he wanted to. He simply did not want to. Amazing how great minds seemed to be paired with little motivation.

"Actually, he isn't," Cas argued. "Ash is top of the class overall, and admittedly in most of his classes, but you have him beat in physics." For a moment, he didn't seem to notice Dean staring at him, completely dumbfounded. Why did Castiel know so much about Ash? And how did he know that Dean was the top of the class in physics? He wanted to question him and find out, and he was about to when Cas finally looked up at him, but the guy looked genuinely confused. As if he had expected Dean to know all of this already. As if it were common knowledge. As if it wasn't completely absurd for some guy Dean barely knew to be complimenting his intelligence.

"I keep telling him he's smart," Mary joined the conversation once again, reminding Dean that he and Cas weren't alone this time and he couldn't simply make Cas shut up by sucking his dick. "But he still refuses to apply for scholarships." She meant well, Dean knew Mary only ever meant well for him, but at that moment he wanted her out of this conversation. He did not need Castiel getting involved in his personal issues. For example, college.

"You should," Cas said, staring intently at Dean. "You-" Dean didn't need to hear anymore about this.

"It doesn't matter, alright?" He glanced back and forth between Castiel and Mary. "We're not talking about this right now."

"I'm..." Dean glared at Cas before he could finish.

"Dinner's delicious, Cas. Thank you," he said, hoping to avert the topic of conversation from himself. Besides he did sincerely mean what he said, Cas's cooking was always astounding.

Mary seemed to sense the shift and started interrogating Cas instead. Dean just rolled his eyes. They had obviously gone through most of this already before he had gotten home. _I'm surprised I haven't heard much about you before. What do you do at school? Do you have many classes with Dean?_ She pointedly never mentioned college for the rest of their meal.

Once they had all finished and the table was clear, Dean and Cas stood in the kitchen washing and drying dishes. Dean had offered to do everything himself, but Cas insisted. Polite bastard.

"Dean," Cas started, dish towel rubbing gently over the plate in his other hand. He glanced up at Dean who stood in front of the sink, sleeves rolled up to his elbows to avoid getting wet. Dean, who had stubbornly refused to acknowledge Cas after complimenting his cooking. He wasn't even sure what he had done wrong--a feeling Cas felt slightly too familiar with.

"No, Castiel," Dean stopped him before he could go any further, tone biting and sharp enough to force Castiel's mouth shut. If he happened not to have used Castiel's full name since that night in the Novak's basement, well he'd argue it was a coincidence. He was not dealing with pointless apologies or halfhearted excuses. Castiel could walk out right now and never so much as look at Dean again for all he cared. Not even his cooking and his blowjobs could make Dean want this asshole in his life. And sure maybe he was being a little unreasonable. Castiel had crossed a line, but he hadn't even known it was there in the first place.

But Dean couldn't talk about college with Mary anymore. He didn't have the heart yet to tell her that he wasn't applying anywhere, opting instead to put all his savings towards Sammy's education. God knows the kid deserved it. Dean also knew that application deadlines were fast approaching, meaning if he didn't tell her soon, she would find out anyway.

Castiel sighed, fingers tightening around the dish and towel in his hands. He hung his head and Dean noticed when he took in his next breath, his eyes were closed and his breathing shuddered. "Just.. please.." He paused, knuckles turning white as his grip tightened further. "Please don't make me go back there." Well, shit. "I know you're mad at me, and I have no right to ask anything of you, but I didn't know where else to go." He took in another deep breath, obviously attempting to calm himself before he spoke again. "I don't know where else I can go."

Dean's mind immediately provided him with the image of Castiel, hiding away in the Novak's basement, covering his bruises with some sort of makeup. He imagined the boy's fingers went through the motions without a thought lately, working with the skill that only comes from hours of practice. What Dean still didn't know was why Cas had bruises to cover in the first place.

"Cas," Dean said softly, dirty dishes forgotten in the sink. The dark haired boy didn't so much as move his eyes in Dean's direction. If it weren't for the tremor that passed through his shoulders, Dean would've thought he hadn't heard him at all. "Hey, it's okay. You're okay. You can stay as long as you need to." Dean noticed Cas's grip loosening on the clean dish and pulled it gently from the smaller boy's hands, placing it carefully out of reach on the counter.

"I'm sorry," Cas whispered. In that moment, he looked smaller than Dean had ever seen him, as if he was going to crawl into a space between the walls and hide there until he felt safe again. His gaze was steady on the ground, arms hanging limply as if he didn't have the energy to wonder what he should do with them. Dean could've sworn he heard his own heart shatter on the linoleum tile floor. He pulled Cas into his arms, rubbing his hands soothingly along his friend's spine.

"You have nothing to be sorry for," Dean said gently. "It's not your fault." He breathed a sigh of relief when he felt the smaller boy's arms wrap hesitantly around him a moment later. Castiel had never told Dean anything about his parents. As far as Dean could tell, he avoided them like the plague, and if the bruises Dean had noticed a few weeks ago were anything to go by, he had more than enough reason to. But to see someone completely break down (especially in a way Dean understood all too well himself) made him furious, even if they weren’t necessarily friends. He could rip the perpetrator apart limb from limb and enjoy it. Nobody deserved to feel that way.

After calming Castiel down enough to face Mary without another, more painful round of 20 questions, Dean explained that his “friend” would be staying over for at least the night. Cas made up some story about his parents being out of town and not liking to stay in the house alone for so long. Thankfully, Mary accepted it without question, offering Cas a spare sleeping bag since the house didn't have any guest rooms.

 

Castiel's unexpected visit had effectively kept all other thoughts from Dean's mind since the moment he received that first text. He was too busy wondering what the hell this guy was doing at his house in the first place to even begin thinking about anything not related to the attractive dark haired boy who was currently stripping--fucking stripping in Dean's room!!--down to his underwear. The sleeping bag he had borrowed was laid out on the hardwood floor with a few extra blankets to compensate for the cold that would inevitably freeze the entire house to 10 degrees in the middle of the night. Dean did his best not to stare at Cas, he really did. But to be fair, he didn't have much else to look at. Sure, he had a stack of unread novels Sam had bought for him after discovering his big brother read Vonnegut and actually enjoyed it. Was Dean going to read them? Probably not. Not when he realized that Castiel apparently had a six-pack hiding underneath the layers of clothes he always wore. In hindsight, Dean realized that should've been obvious considering the fact that Cas was an athlete, but his brain wasn't exactly functioning properly when he saw those toned muscles for the first time.

"Dean!" Cas's demanding voice snapped Dean out of his reverie. How long had he been talking? Dean forced his eyes up to meet Castiel's. If looks could kill, Dean probably would have perished at that very moment--sitting on his bed, trying not to stare at Castiel, and probably looking like a lovestruck teenager. Nope, he was most definitely not turned on. He was not going to think about Cas, practically naked and staring at him like a piece of meat. Castiel forcing Dean onto his back with his wrists tied above his head was obviously the furthest thing from his mind right now. Castiel must have noticed Dean's eyes wandering down again, but graciously chose to ignore it. "Despite what you seem to think, I am going to need a towel."

Oh. Oh right. A towel. That's why Cas was stripping. He was getting a shower. "Uhh..." Dean shook his head lightly, attempting to regain some of the blood flow he lost to his dick when it had noticed Castiel half-naked. "Yeah, yeah. They're in the cabinet next to the sink when you get in the bathroom. Can't miss it."

Castiel rolled his eyes--actually fucking rolled his eyes, that bastard. "Thank you," he said, before walking out into the hallway. Dean groaned and fell back onto his bed. This was going to be a long night.

 

Dean hadn't bothered to move from his position on the bed until he heard it. That distinct sound coming through loud and clear all the way from the front porch. He recognized it immediately, sitting up and flailing off the bed in panic. No. No, this could not be happening. Not right now. Why why why did these things always happen to him? Why did he have to forget?!

As Dean scrambled out of his room, shoving books and blankets haphazardly across the floor in his haste, he could hear them getting closer. Maybe Mary would hold them up for a few minutes. At least, he prayed she would. How the hell had he forgotten?! No, wrong question. He knew exactly how he had forgotten and why it was so easy to do so. His answer was currently showering down the hall. If he had been in his right mind, he would have known to expect this.

"Eeeyyyyy, there he is!" Ash stood in the center of the living room, one arm draped across Charlie's shoulders, and his duffle bag dropped on the floor at his feet. The red-head bounced excitedly on her toes when she noticed Dean standing at the foot of the staircase. Oh yeah. This was going to be fantastic. "Great plans tonight," Ash went on, hoisting his duffle bag back onto his shoulder. "I've got The Matrix, Alien..." He went on with a list of sci-fi movies they had all seen at least ten times, but Dean tuned him out completely in favor of wondering what the hell he was going to do. He couldn't kick Ash and Charlie out without an explanation, but he couldn't kick Cas out either. He had promised him. Goddammit.

Ash and Charlie were headed towards the stairs, up to Dean's room. Dean's bedroom where Cas may or may not be at the moment. Had he gotten out of the shower yet? Was he even dressed? Was he wondering where Dean had gone?

"I... uhh..." Dean stumbled over the words, still trying to get a handle on his nerves. "What if we just stayed down here tonight?" He brought his hand up to scratch at the back of his head. "TV's bigger... and we're closer to the kitchen so..."

"Nah man," Ash laughed, not even bothering to turn around as he reached the staircase. "We got all we need right here." He patted a hand against the duffel hanging over his shoulder, indicating the stash of movies and probably more than enough alcohol for the three of them. "Although you know I will never turn down food... if you're offering." Any other day, Dean would have rolled his eyes and readily followed his friends, but now, he was surprised they couldn't hear his heart hammering away in his chest. He stood, frozen in pure terror. How the hell was he going to get out of this?!

Fuck fuck fuck. He sprinted up the staircase two steps at a time to catch up to his friends who had thankfully taken a detour to say hi to Sam. Right, Dean had forgotten he was actually home. He faintly remembered his not-so-little little brother mentioning a major project he had due for the end of the semester which was why he didn't come down for dinner. Little nerd. The semester wouldn't end until mid-January. Sammy was dedicated, to put it nicely. It was no wonder the kid had straight A's.

Dean reached his bedroom door only a second before his friends. Using his body as a barricade, he blocked Ash and Charlie from entering. Please God, let this stupid ass plan work. he thought.

"Seriously, man?" Ash gestured towards Dean's room. "Do we have to guess the password or something?" Charlie giggled.

"No, you guys really don't wanna go in there, trust me." Was he sweating? He felt hot. Why was this happening?

"Can't be worse than anything we've seen before," Ash said. They were definitely getting annoyed with him now.

"No, it's really... really bad. Place should probably be quarantined or somethin'," he pleaded. At this point, he was basically praying to every god imaginable to make this stop. Just get Ash and Charlie to leave and never see Cas here. "It's basically a disaster area."

Charlie rolled her eyes. "Yeah, okay drama queen." She stepped out from under Ash's arm, towards Dean. Towards the door which was blessedly still closed. Dean panicked for a moment as she got closer. While he racked his brain for a solution that wouldn't harm his friend (who let's be honest could have taken him down easily if he had tried to fight her), Charlie slipped her arm past Dean to push the door open. Oh no.

"Dean?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Words cannot express how happy all your kudos and comments have made me. You guys really inspire me to continue doing this. Thank you so much!!
> 
> All my love  
> -Z


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean froze as dread washed over his entire body, flowing into his bloodstream and making itself comfortable in the pit of his stomach. Yeah, this was bad. Really, really bad. His arms were lead, hanging uselessly at his sides. His feet suddenly glued to the floorboards beneath him. Dean couldn't move.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> surprise! I said Friday didn't I? Yep, well as it turns out I won't be able to update then so happy unbirthday, your fic is here a day early!

"Dean?"

Dean froze as dread washed over his entire body, flowing into his bloodstream and making itself comfortable in the pit of his stomach.

"Novak?!" Yeah, this was bad. Really, really bad. "What the fuck are you doing here?!" Ash was screaming. Dean could hear him, he could see his mouth moving, but he couldn't do anything about it. His arms were lead, hanging uselessly at his sides. His feet suddenly glued to the floorboards beneath him.

"Dean," there was that voice again, coming from somewhere behind him, but Dean couldn't move. He couldn't turn around to face his accuser. "What's going on?" He sounded timid; so unlike the strong, confident voice Dean had grown accustomed to that he didn't immediately recognize the sound.

Before his brain could catch up enough for him to fully comprehend the situation he had gotten himself stuck in or make an attempt to fix it, Charlie's hands were in his, calmly holding him in place. Her presence was peaceful, quiet, soft. More than welcome as a distraction. Dean focused in on her, eyes still wide, pupils likely dilated in fear.

"Okay?" she whispered. Dean thought he nodded, but he couldn't feel the movement. "Dean, sweetie," she never raised her voice, maintaining her composure even though Dean was sure she wanted to break Castiel's skull on the hard floor. She'd only been offering to do so for the past three years or so. "I need you to explain what's going on." He felt his muscles tense at the suggestion, but Charlie continued anyway. "Do you wanna talk about it downstairs? Just us three. Castiel can stay up here." At that, Dean finally convinced his muscles to move his head up and down, nodding his acceptance.

Somehow Charlie managed to get both of her friends downstairs and seated on the couch without any bloodshed. That girl was a damn miracle worker, even though she had to occasionally stop Ash from glaring in the vague direction of Dean's bedroom. Dean sat, slumped forward, head between his knees. Charlie had immediately provided them both with cheap beer, though Dean's had been collecting condensation on the coffee table for the past five minutes.

"Dean," she started softly, the way you would with a wounded animal who might lash out and bite you if you came too close. Dean resented it. "You don't have to tell us everything, but we're concerned." He didn't move, aside from the steady rise and fall of his shoulders with every deep breath. "Right Ash?" okay, that sounded a lot less gentle. Dean would've smirked if he had any control over his own body right now. As it was, he still felt paralyzed. Frozen indefinitely to his new home on the living room couch.

"Huh?" Ash jolted, nearly spilling the remains of his beer on Mary's rug. "Oh right, yeah." He moved closer to his friends, taking great pains to move his gaze from the staircase. "Dean, buddy, we talked about this. It doesn't matter what's going on, but we need to know you're okay, and right now that is not what I'm seein'."

Dean pulled in a deep breath, lifting his head just slightly and reaching out for the beer on the coffee table. "I..." he tried, but his voice was weak. He leaned back, resting his head on the back of the couch, and chugged the entire beer in one go, crushing the can immediately afterward. He lobbed it over to the corner, knowing full well he would have to clean it up later; but he simply couldn't find the effort to care. "I don't know," he said quietly.

"It's okay," Charlie tried again, frustration beginning to ebb beneath her outward show of concern. "Can you just tell me why Cas is here?" She used his nickname. Only Dean called him Cas. That was _his_ nickname. He moved his gaze to the redheaded girl beside him, planning on vaporizing her with the intensity of his glare alone. But he couldn't do it. Not only because logistically, a glare cannot vaporize a human being, but because of the look on her face. Dean Winchester would rather jump off a cliff head first than admit to any sort of "chick flick moments." He was a hypermasculine sorta guy like that. But Charlie looked genuinely concerned in a way Dean hadn't seen since Sam was hospitalized a few years back. He had sworn never to do that to her again.

Something had finally clicked into place in Dean's brain. His muscles relaxed as he sank into the couch cushions, head lolling back so he could stare up at the ceiling. "Charlie," he voice came out as nothing more than a whisper, "I don't know." He closed his eyes, willing himself to keep calm. "He just... he just showed up."

"And now I'll just be leaving." Dean's eyes shot open. Castiel was standing at the foot of the staircase, hair still dripping droplets of water onto his chest. If he hadn't been wearing that rumpled, old shirt, Dean would not have been able to hold his gaze so easily. Except maybe he would because now Cas was leaving. Cas was leaving. No. No this couldn't happen. He was just starting to fix it.

"Cas, no." Dean knew he was pleading with the boy, practically begging, but what else could he do? He had already rushed out of his seat to stand in front of Cas. Castiel, who stood just out of arm's reach. If he took a step forward maybe... no. Cas stepped backward, ignoring the fact that his ankles were now pressed against the bottom stair as he gave Dean a quick, confused look. Almost asking _what exactly are you trying to do?_

"Dean, move." His voice was sharp and demanding in contrast to the absurd expression still lingering on his face. If Dean had been more aware at the moment, he might have noticed the disparity. Might have been able to convince Cas to stay. Instead, he focused in on his voice. It was the same voice he had used when Dean was within an inch of his life only a few weeks ago. The same voice he had used to silence Dean into pliant submission when he had fled from his parents. His parents.

"Cas, you said..."

"Fuck what I said!" Dean stepped back instinctively at the force of Castiel's tone. This boy wasn't his friend. He had no reason to even try to protect him. The boy standing in front of him was dangerous and more than Dean could hope to handle on his own.

"Cas," Dean pleaded. Maybe Castiel wasn't his friend. Maybe he was dangerous. But he was vulnerable. Dean knew it. He had seen it. And he already allowed himself to fall head over heels for the guy. He had to at least try, despite knowing in the very essence of his soul that it was useless. Castiel had made up his mind.

"My name is Castiel.” Dean was pretty sure someone just stabbed him. He couldn’t calm the raging thoughts in his head, couldn’t move to reach out to Cas who was still standing barely out of reach. “Now, get out of my way." Castiel squared his shoulders, looking more ready for a fight than Dean had ever seen before. "I'm leaving." He shoved past Dean, pushing him into the back of the couch as he walked past, shoulders squared and chin held high. Dean resented it. He wanted to hate it. He wanted to be able to smash Castiel’s face into the floorboards until he bled. Instead, his mind supplied him with images of Castiel, covered in bruises. Castiel, cowering in fear, doing everything within his power to hide himself away from the rest of the world.

Dean reached out blindly, grabbing hold of Cas’s sleeve. “You don’t have to. You’re lying,” his voice was so quiet, Dean barely heard himself, but Cas stopped. He stood facing Dean, a variety emotions warring for dominance on his face. He looked scared for a moment, Dean caught that one. But before he could make out any of the others, Castiel was unrecognizable. He was no longer Cas. He was no longer any different from the boys who would have gladly beaten Dean to a bloody pulp on the cement. He leaned in close, only inches from Dean’s face while Dean held desperately onto his sleeve for support.

“This isn’t the lie, Dean.” His voice was cold. It had lost all traces of mirth that had been finally beginning to shine through. “Did you really think I meant any of it?” His eyes were like fire, burning every inch of Dean they touched, raking over him like coals. “Why did you think I came here, Dean? To make you dinner?” He laughed, the sound like deadly venom to Dean’s heart. He could never forget that sound. “No, I knew I could get you to put out tonight. All it takes with you is a few well-placed words.” _No_ , Dean thought. _It’s not possible. Cas wouldn’t do this to him._ This boy was a demon. “I see how you stare at me. It’d be so easy.” He couldn’t move. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. His entire world had narrowed so that all he knew was the demon leaning into his ear, poisoning him with every slip of his tongue. “Just imagine what everyone would do when they heard you submitted to me so easily. Spread yourself out like a whore, desperate for me to fuck you into your own mattress. That’s all you need isn’t it? A nice, thick cock to split you in half.” He looked Dean over once more, before spitting out one final blow, "You're disgusting." The demon shoved Dean lazily backwards as he sauntered out the front door.

He fell to the cold floor, curling into himself, desperately holding back the tears that threatened to overwhelm him. No no no why did he let this happen? He was so stupid. Couldn’t tell the lies from the truth. Should’ve known he couldn’t trust him. His arms tightened around his knees as he felt an arm wrap around him. He couldn't care less who it was. Nobody could help him now. Nobody could fix his mistake. Fuck, why would they even want to?

~~~~~~~~~~~

The next few days went by in a blur. If anyone had asked, Dean wouldn't have been able to recall anything from the moment Cas walked out his front door. Teachers talked. Sammy studied. Ash made empty threats. Charlie worried. Castiel was gone. Nothing mattered. He thought absently one day that Mary must've been concerned, but he brushed the thought off easily. What did it matter? He hadn't tried to kill himself at least. No, Dean Winchester was still very much alive even if his actions or lack thereof suggested otherwise.

He hadn't seen Castiel since that day, couldn't decide whether or not he wanted to. He wanted that strange comfort being near Castiel had provided, wanted to see him forgetting to maintain that calm facade like he had whenever they talked over dinner, wanted to hear that sweet laugh that only escaped when Dean recalled stories about Ash's and Charlie's various adventures, wanted to see that fond smile creep over his face when Dean told him about Sammy's ambitions. He wanted Cas. He wanted him so badly it hurt.

But Cas didn't want him. _He was the one who did this to you_ , he had to keep reminding himself. And maybe that was Charlie's voice of reason seeping through the fog in his mind. Castiel had lied to him. Had he ever really cared? Was every smile, laugh, and absurd story nothing more than a ploy to embarrass him? How long had he been plotting to destroy Dean like this? No, he couldn't have known. Couldn't have guessed the extent of Dean's feelings for him. Could he?

"Winchester!" Dean raised his head to see Mr. Singer standing at the edge of his desk, staring down at him. "Care to join us?" History, right. Was he really in his last class already? Hadn't he just woken up? Oh well, not as if he really needed a high school diploma for his future plans.

"I'd really rather not," Dean said, dropping his head to rest on his folded arms once again. He could hear his classmates whispering, not one daring to laugh. Of course, they all thought Mr. Singer would give him detention for the comment. He didn't take that sort of crap from anyone. Not that Dean cared. Besides, his history teacher should've been well aware by now that giving Dean detention was useless. He simply wouldn't show up to that either. Things to do, places to be. All that crap.

"See me after class," Mr. Singer told him instead. Dean shrugged. "And don't forget," he added, knowing full well that Dean probably would. His attention span was shorter than a rottweiler's tail.

When the final bell rang, signaling the end of the school day, Dean didn't even bother to move. He felt Ash squeeze his shoulder reassuringly as he passed on his way out, but otherwise everyone ignored him. Finally. Apparently all it took was a self-involved spiral of depression for his homophobic classmates to back the fuck off.

"C'mere kid," Mr. Singer called from the front of the room. Everyone had filed out by now, so they were the only two left. Dean pretended to be asleep. He wasn't planning on moving anytime soon, but he didn't want to face Bobby Singer either. "Would you get off your sorry ass and get over here?" Except ignoring Bobby was a feat Dean was entirely incapable of. The man had been a family friend for as long as he could remember. When Dean came out, Bobby was there to protect him. He couldn't count the number of times he had hidden away in this very room, too afraid to face the rest of the school. He also knew Bobby wasn't afraid to beat him over the head if he so much as disrespected the man.

He sighed, maybe a little too dramatically, and shuffled to the front of the room. Bobby was sitting at his desk, attention seemingly focused on the papers he had to grade. So Dean stood there, awkwardly glancing at the posters he had helped Bobby hang in September.

"You just gonna stand there or are you gonna tell me what's got you looking like someone killed your puppy?" Bobby grumbled, the red pen he used for grading forgotten among the clutter of papers on his desk. Dean turned to face him, defenses crumbling into nothing when he met the older man's gaze. _Bobby cares_ , Dean reminded himself. _He was there when John died and he was there when I almost got killed. I can trust him._ He actually did trust Bobby more than anyone else, even Mary. Maybe that stemmed from the knowledge that he could never succeed in pushing Bobby away (really, he had tried before), the man would never desert him.

"Fine," he mumbled, pulling out a chair to sit in.

"I'm assuming this is about that Novak kid you've been working with," Bobby said. Right, of course he knew about Castiel. Mary must have been the one to tell him, considering Dean couldn't remember ever doing so himself. Which, when he considered it, was kind of odd. He had told Bobby basically everything. Though, Mary did always fill in the gaps.

Dean nodded.

"So, what'd'ya do?" he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the clutter of papers.

"Me?" Dean asked incredulously. "What makes you think it was my fault?"

Bobby simply raised one eyebrow. Yeah, Dean knew these things were usually his fault for some reason or another, but why would Bobby just assume that? Did he even know Castiel? Did he have any idea how stubborn and arrogant that guy could be? The guy would probably jump off a cliff before admitting he was wrong. Dean supposed they at least had that in common. When Dean made no other attempt to speak, Bobby sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose lightly.

"Alright, then what'd Novak do?"

_How about broke my heart and destroyed all my hopes and dreams_ , Dean thought. But he couldn't say that. Didn't want anyone to see him so vulnerable again. Couldn't admit how deep his affections ran. He opened and closed his mouth for almost a full minute, trying to find the right words to tell Bobby what had happened without actually telling him what had happened.

"I don't know what happened," he started, "One minute, everything's fine and the next..." He made some vague hand gestures which somehow effectively communicated that everything then went to shit the next minute. He broke the older man's concerned gaze, closing his eyes as he dropped his chin momentarily to his chest. "I'm scared, Bobby," he whispered, so quiet he almost couldn't even hear himself.

"You think this boy might try to hurt you again?" Bobby asked. From his tone alone, Dean could tell he was ready on the defense, willing to defend Dean to his dying breath.

"No!" Dean yelled, not bothering to think about his words until they had already left his mouth. Cas wouldn't hurt him. No. He couldn't. Cas protected him. He wouldn't hurt him. Somehow, somewhere deep in his heart, despite everything that had happened, Dean still believed this was true.

“Uh huh…” Dean knew he wasn’t fully convinced. To be fair, neither was Dean. “Look kid, what you get up to is none of my business and I don’t wanna hear about it. But whatever this is is affecting your work and your family, so you gotta find some way to fix it. Ya hear?”

“Yes, sir,” Dean mumbled. Bobby was right, as usual. He knew he was letting himself fall behind on his schoolwork, and worse than that, he was causing Mary to worry. If only he could talk to Cas. Cas always managed to see through Dean's bullshit to the real issue. He let Dean ramble until he felt better or came up with some sort of solution. But he couldn't talk to Cas. Cas was gone.

“Good, I’m gonna tell your mama we had a talk and you’re gonna work on getting your act together. Doesn't matter how you do it. Get Ash to do all your schoolwork. Find a therapist. Call Gabriel. I don’t care what ya do or how ya do it. Just work on it.” He returned his attention to the ungraded papers on his desk, silently signalling for Dean to go. And he did. Almost. He stood, placing the borrowed chair back in its proper place, and turned towards the door.

“Thanks, Bobby,” he looked back at his teacher, who only huffed in response, and smiled fondly. The first smile that had crossed his features since that day. Man, Bobby Singer really was one of a kind.

~~~~~~~~~~~

_Call Gabriel. I don’t care._ Bobby’s words rang clear in his mind that night. _Call Gabriel._ He hadn’t spoken to Gabe in over a year, didn’t know if the man still remembered him. Yet, he sat here, phone in hand, contemplating Bobby’s suggestion for at least an hour. _Call Gabriel._

God, how desperate was he to consider going to Gabriel Milton for advice? Gabriel was anything but sane. He was so obnoxious, impractical, and childish Dean was surprised he manged not to get himself killed on a daily basis. Or at least die from a sugar overdose. But despite all that, Gabriel never came across as self-centered. Maybe that was why Dean trusted him so implicitly. Well that and everything Gabe had done for him in the few months they knew each other.

They had met almost four and a half years ago after Dean had been working at the auto shop for only a month. Gabe had totalled his car on his way home from a 4th of July party (typical) and had subsequently spent every free minute he could at the shop waiting for it. Dean wasn't sure whether he was really there for his car or to flirt with the girls who were working. After a few days, his coworker Jo had come surprisingly close to filing a restraining order. So, Gabe was probably there for the girls. Instead of the restraining order, Jo decided to send the new guy to entertain the "obnoxious douchebag who won't leave me alone." Dean hadn't exactly been around long enough to do much work yet anyway.

After a couple weeks of Dean being used as the decoy, Gabe decided to leave Jo alone and harass the new guy instead. At least, for the most part. Now he would show up once a week with takeout for himself and the younger boy from the mexican grill down the street. Dean knew better than to complain about free food; so, they sat and ate and somehow got around to talking too.

The first two weeks, they talked about cars and girls. Gabe was more excited to talk about girls, whereas Dean could've rambled on about his Baby for months. Dean patiently listened as he talked through a long list of girls. Mostly he talked about how sexy they looked in whatever skimpy outfit, but Dean noticed how he admired their independence. He told Dean probably everything he knew about Kali who was a black belt in multiple types of martial arts and was going to college to study Anthropology. Yeah, Gabe wasn't as much of a womanizer as he initially let on. Meanwhile, Dean told him exactly what they had to do to fix his car, how long it would take, what kinds of parts they needed to order in.

The third week, Dean learned that Gabe was going to be a senior at Lawrence High in September where Dean would be starting as a freshman. Gabe apologized on behalf of the entire public school system, before diverting the conversation to a book he had read on ancient Norse mythology.

The fourth week, Gabe was more anxious than usual, although Dean had at the time interpreted the excess energy as a sugar high. They talked about school starting in less than a week. Gabe told Dean who he'd be safer to avoid, who the homophobic teachers were, and which classes he could skip altogether. At some point between their meeting and that fourth week of lunch together, Gabe had figured out that Dean was bi. He accepted him unquestioningly, which was reassuring for a kid still so far in the closet he had found Narnia, but Dean had yet to come out to his friends and family.

When September came and Gabe got his car back, Dean expected to never see him again. But of course, nothing was ever as expected with Gabriel. He showed up with takeout on Thursday. Nothing changed. Dean never saw Gabe in school, but he also sometimes wondered if Gabe ever went to school.

Then Gabe showed up angry. Dean took him out to the back where they kept the useless junk and scrap metal so he could kick a few doors in while Dean sat on an old hood, eating lunch. Gabe muttered curses under his breath as he dented the scrap metal, seemingly unaware of Dean's presence. They stayed there for a half hour or so until Gabe left without a word.

Throughout the following weeks, Dean managed to piece together some bits and pieces of information Gabe slowly revealed. Such as he hated his parents, his father was an alcoholic, his step-mother hated him for simply supporting the LGBT community. Then there was Cassie. From the way Gabe talked, Dean figured she was his little sister. In fact, he talked about Cassie a lot after that day. How he hated what they did to her. How he was going to get her out of there. How he had to make a living for himself until she turned eighteen. He told Dean that he didn't know how he would be able to live with himself knowing he left her there to suffer until then.

In return, Dean told him about Sammy and John and Mary. He told his new friend about his whole dysfunctional family. Told him that Sammy was smarter than any kid he'd ever seen before. That Mary was the greatest woman on Earth and he still couldn't imagine how she had ended up with John. Told him all about John's problems with alcohol. That he felt like an asshole for missing the man who had made his family miserable. He told Gabe everything Bobby had done to help Mary while Dean was still young. Sometime while they were discussing their messed up home lives, Gabe coaxed him into coming out to Sammy and Mary.

The week after Dean came out to the rest of the school and nearly got killed by his classmates, Gabe was there with sugary sweets and soothing words. He kept mumbling things that didn't seem to make sense, but Dean's head wasn't exactly screwed on properly at that point. He had even gotten yelled at for showing up to work after his boss found out what happened. ("I don't give a damn about who you have sex with. Just show up, do your work well, and you've got yourself a job. But _don't_ show up if you ain't in any condition to work.") Dean thought he heard Gabe saying, "I didn't know" and, "I'm so sorry" as if he blamed himself for what those boys did to Dean. But Dean brushed it off. Not like Gabe could've known the new freshman captain of Lawrence High's Varsity baseball team was a total dick.

As the year went on, they spent less and less time together. Eventually he stopped showing up altogether. Dean never got a real explanation for that. Maybe he got busy with schoolwork (though Dean severely doubted that). Maybe he simply didn't want to hang out with a freshman anymore. Dean almost felt betrayed, but he knew if Gabe stopped showing up, it very likely meant he had finally gotten out and away from his family. All Dean knew was that one day in June, right before graduation, Gabe showed up with takeout from the mexican grill down the street and said goodbye for what might have been the last time. Of course, he promised he would come back and visit Dean when he came back for Cassie, but Dean didn't expect him to remember that in four years. He wouldn't hold him to that promise.

The faint knock on his door finally brought him out of his reverie. He looked up to see Charlie poking her head through the door.

"Hey, buddy. How ya doin?" He tried wracking his brain for any reason she could be there, but unfortunately, came up empty. He must have looked as confused as he felt because she didn't bother waiting for him to talk before saying, "It's Friday, remember?" Oh. That's why.

"It's Friday already?" It had been a full week since Cas walked out on him, and he hadn't even noticed. Did that mean he didn't care enough?

"Yep!" Charlie leaped onto the bed beside Dean, lifting her legs to sit indian style. "And Ash can't make it." She pouted for a moment, though Dean could still see a smile pulling at the corners of her lips. "So that means we," she pointed between Dean and herself, "are having a girls night." She smiled at the news, beaming proudly.

"Really?" However, Dean was so not in the mood to play along. "I only see one girl here. Unless you're counting Mary, then by all means have a girls night! I'll just wait up here." Charlie scowled at him. "Seeing as you've been moping over a boy for the past week like a teenage girl, I stand to my original statement. We are having a girls night, Winchester. Whether you like it or not." She picked her bag up from where she had dropped it on the floor and proceeded to rifle through its contents. Dean watched, still unsure as to whether or not he should be offended. Moping? He was totally not moping over Cas. He was reasonably upset after his friend had betrayed his trust. Yeah, that was it. Definitely not moping. Charlie pulled out a movie as he was about to laugh at himself for even considering being offended. This was Charlie. No matter what she said, she would never intentionally hurt Dean.

"Okay," he conceded, "so what bad movie are we watching tonight?"

"I'm glad you asked," she waved a disk in front of his face before jumping excitedly off the bed. "Make some popcorn and I'll meet you downstairs." She winked, turning away from him quickly.

"What? You're not gonna tell me?"

"Nope!" she called, already skipping down the hall. Dean pulled himself off the bed, phone falling on the floor as he did. Right. He picked it up, considering calling Gabe for another moment, but he could hear Charlie bounding down the stairs. Oh well. Charlie was here. Gabe wasn't. Simple enough. He pocketed the phone, before stepping out into the hallway to follow Charlie.

"So what are we watching?" he asked, passing Charlie the popcorn bowl and flopping down to sit beside her on the living room couch. Charlie usually wasn't allowed to pick the movie ever since they got stuck watching the entire Lord of the Rings trilogy in one night. Tonight, Dean wasn't about to argue. He had been enough of a pain in the ass for the past week. Instead of answering him, Charlie only smirked and dumped a bag of M&M's into the popcorn. Dean rolled his eyes.

"Dude is this Twilight?" he asked when the movie finally started.

"Not really."

"Uh huh..." sure looked like Twilight. Sparkly vampires and... oh. It wasn't until the disco ball appeared over Edward's crotch that Dean realized what they were watching. Okay, he could get on board with this.

As the movie went on, Dean felt the tension easing out of his body, and he finally started to relax. He felt calmer than he had all week. Charlie kept silent aside from her ongoing commentary. _Do you think they shot this on location? ...I know what you are. Say it. Out loud... Pokemon trainer...Yeah looks like the same location._ Dean only responded now and then, but he really enjoyed having Charlie there with him. By the time Jacob transformed into a chihuahua, he had his own stream of sarcastic comments going alongside Charlie's. Although he would deny passionately singing along to "Raining Men" until his dying day.

"Team Jacob, bitch!" the TV screamed a little while later. By now, Charlie was leaning into Dean's side, his left arm draped over the back of the couch behind her. They had abandoned the empty popcorn bowl on the coffee table and draped a blanket over themselves. Dean combed his fingers through Charlie's hair as he smiled softly.

"Thanks, Charlie," he said. He really meant it. He had kind of been a dick this past week, completely ignoring his friends in favor of sitting alone in his room, feeling sorry for himself. All while they refused to abandon him. He was lucky.

They cleaned up while the credits were rolling across the screen. Dean left Charlie in the living room to fold the blanket while he washed the now-empty bowl.

"No, not yet." He could hear Charlie talking to someone across the hall. Well, that was unusual, but then again, Ash wasn't here. Maybe he called to make sure everything was okay. Probably didn't want to face Dean himself. "Look, I'll talk to him when he's ready, but he can't know yet... I know that... He's my friend, that's why... I'm only doing this because it'll help him. It doesn't mean I'm going to immediately trust you... You hurt him. Now learn to deal with the consequences." What the hell was that about? Was she talking about _him_? No, that couldn't be right. Who would Charlie talk to about him if it wasn't Ash? He didn't exactly have any other friends, and she would crack Castiel's head open before ever thinking about talking to him. But she did say she didn't trust whoever it was.

No. He shouldn't be thinking about this. He shouldn't even know about that conversation. He shook his head, placing the bowl back in the cabinet. He waited until he could be absolutely certain Charlie had hung up before walking back out.

"So do you have the rest of tonight planned too?" he asked, leaning on one shoulder against the doorframe. "Cause if not, we can always braid Sam's hair."

"Well..." Charlie started, a devious grin on her face. Oh no. This could not be good. But before he could argue, there was a knock on the front door. Seriously, why the fuck did this keep happening? He couldn't have one fucking conversation without being interrupted by someone at a nearby door. He scowled at the door before abandoning his spot against the doorframe to open it.

Normally, Dean was polite to whoever was bothering to show up at his front door while he tried convincing them to leave. However, this was not an ideal time. Especially considering who had shown up at his door.

"What the fuck do you want?" he growled.

"Dean..."

"No. You have two options. Either get the fuck out of here or I'm going to crack your skull on that porch."

"Dean. We need to talk."

"No. We don't," he argued. "And I'd really rather not have to clean blood off the porch again so I suggest you hightail it out of here and get yourself back to lala land."

"Cas, I told you not to do this," Charlie said from behind him. Oh. So, she _was_ talking to Castiel. He couldn't even trust his friends anymore? Fan-fucking-tastic. He swivelled to stare at Charlie instead.

"You did what?" he asked, voice dropping dangerously low.

"Dean..." she started, holding her hands up, palms out. Fuck. He fucked up. He really fucked up. Goddammit. He wasn't going to do this anymore. But Castiel had... and now he was... Son of a bitch.

"What's going on Charlie?" he asked, using all his self-control to keep his voice even and non-threatening.

"Dean, I can explain," Castiel said from where he still stood in the doorway, front door open and winter air breezing in from behind him.

"Did I ask you?" Dean growled at him. "No. Now, close the fucking door, you're letting the cold air in."

"It's okay, Dean," Charlie said. He knew he had basically trained her to give him alcohol whenever something bad happened, but he also was not about to let anyone out of this room. They were doing this right here, right now, completely sober, whether they liked it or not.

"You," he pointed at Castiel, standing awkwardly at the door in some old beaten-up trench coat, "Don't even think of moving." He stalked over to drop back down onto the couch. "C'mon Charlie," he said as casually as he possibly could given the current situation. "We gonna talk about this or what?"

Charlie stared at him for a few moments, and Dean could practically see her mind racing. This wasn't the kind of thing Dean usually did. He didn't talk. He either got drunk or he got mad. No other option.

"Uh... Okay," she finally said. She sat gingerly on the couch, back to the armrest so she could face Dean. He raised an eyebrow at her, much like Bobby always did when Dean refused to answer him. "I..."

"It's not her fault," Cas interrupted. Charlie's eyes went wide, and Dean could see the fear there. Nobody could predict what he would do. Goddammit, he really needed to get his act together if his best friends were afraid of him. He took a deep breath, calming himself before he turned around to face Castiel. He didn't say anything, simply gave him the same look. _Go on, I'm waiting._ "I wanted to fix this, Dean. I didn't know how to do that, so I asked Charlie to help me. She didn't want to at first. She hated me and with good reason. I hated myself, too."

"Nice to know you can finally see how horrible you really are, Cas," Dean commented. Sure, he had decided not to physically hurt Castiel, but he was still feeling murderous. He wasn't about to forgive that easily. He wanted revenge for what Castiel had done to him.

"I know, Dean. And I'm so sorry." He paused, weighing his words for what he would say next. "I didn't have any reason to be a good person before I met you. It's hard. But I don't want to go back to being that person."

"Think it's too late for that, buddy."

"No, it isn't. It's never too late," Cas countered. "I want to spend time with you Dean, whether that means having you as a tutor or a friend. It doesn't matter... But I need you in my life." Alright, well he definitely wasn't expecting that. Cas needed him, huh? He was ready to whole-heartedly believe him, and ride off into the sunset; but even if Castiel was lying, Dean loved to hear it.

"Cas..."

"It's okay, Dean. I don't expect you to forgive me. I said what I needed to say. I'll go." He turned towards the door again, trench coat pulled tightly around his lean frame. "And Charlie, I'm sorry."

Dean sat on couch, stunned and staring at the door for what felt like an hour. In reality it may have been less than a minute until Charlie spoke up.

"Dean, are you okay?" She sounded closer than before, had likely moved across the couch to sit directly next to him. "I told him not to..."

"I think you should go," he said, interrupting whatever speech she was about to give. He needed to be alone, to think this through. What if Cas was telling the truth? Really was sorry for what he had done? Dean had a hard time telling the difference.

"Are you sure?" Charlie's hand was on his arm now, running soothingly up and down. He really was an asshole. He didn't deserve such great friends, especially for what he had done and what he was about to do.

"Charlie, please," he begged her. He didn't want to force her out, but he needed her gone. He knew he wouldn't go through with this with Charlie around. He heard her sigh behind him as she lifted herself off the couch. He got up to walk her out. Dean Winchester may be a self-involved asshole, but he was still a gentleman.

They stood on the porch for a moment, Charlie's keys hanging loosely in her hand.

"I love you," she said quietly, watching the stars blinking through the night sky.

"I know," Dean answered. He pulled her to his chest, leaning his chin against the top of her head as he did. He knew. Charlie loved him no matter what, and he didn't deserve that. He knew he wasn't worthy of her kindness, but she would let him have it anyway.

He stood on the porch for a while, alone and unaware of the cold that surrounded him and threatening to freeze him to the spot. The stars shone through the inky black of night, outshined only by the glow of the moon. No matter what he did, his friends would stand by him. No matter what happened, the universe would go on.

He pulled his phone from his pocket after finally walking back inside and shutting the front door behind himself. He held it in his palm as he climbed the stairs and opened his bedroom door. When he finally sat down on his bed, he unlocked it. The screen was still open to Gabriel's number, waiting for Dean to call. A couple hours ago, he might have. But now, he simply closed the screen, opening up his previous messages from Castiel.

To: Castiel

From: Dean

tuesday. 6:00 sharp. your place. be sure to make something good for dinner.

Now all he had to do was wait for Tuesday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These two idiots can be so annoying sometimes. Every time I tried to write some fluff for poor Dean, someone else came barging through a door, insisting upon getting their two cents in. Especially Castiel. He wasn't supposed to show up here for a while longer after leaving like that. Oh well, they'll do what they wanna do.   
> Thank you so much to everyone who has left kudos or comments and especially to all new subscribers! You guys are fantastic and you have my eternal love <3


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He knew from the beginning that being near Castiel wouldn't be good for him. That he could easily get hurt. But now, he needed to hear it from Castiel. Needed to know why. Why he said what he said. Why he would do that after everything else. There had to be a reason. Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this took forever, and it's a short chapter. I'm sorry.  
> It would've been finished a lot sooner, but my life was a complete wreck for a few months. If all goes as planned, I should get back into a good writing schedule soon, but you probably shouldn't hold me to that.

Tomorrow would be Tuesday. Tuesday was tomorrow. In about two hours, it would be Tuesday. In only two hours. Did Dean even want it to be Tuesday? Did he want to face that? His stomach was twisting itself into a tangle of knots and butterflies as he stared at his bedside alarm clock.

10:07pm... What was he going to say? Could he face Castiel after everything that happened?

10:19pm... He toyed with his phone in his hands. Should he cancel? Tell Castiel he couldn't make it? Would that mean never speaking to him or hearing from him again? What if it did? How would he feel about that? For fuck’s sake, shouldn't he be able to answer these questions?

10:43pm... He needed to get over himself. He was being ridiculous.

10:56pm... But what if he wasn't?

11:02pm... Oh god. He was another hour closer. It would be Tuesday in less than an hour, and then he had to suffer an entire day at Lawrence High before meeting Castiel.

11:15pm... How the hell was he supposed to get through school like this? He could barely think straight right now!

11:24pm... He needed to stop thinking about Castiel. About the way his hair looked when he ran his fingers through it in frustration. About the way his eyes lit up when he was happy.

11:30pm... Those poisonous words splitting apart his soul. Fuck. Why was he doing this? He knew from the beginning that being near Castiel wouldn't be good for him. That he could easily get hurt.

11:41pm... And now look what happened. He got hurt. So, why the fuck was he going back?

11:49pm... No. He needed to hear it from Castiel. Needed to know why. Why he said what he said. Why he would do that after everything else.

11:56pm... There had to be a reason. Right?

11:59pm... He wouldn't do that to Dean without a reasonable explanation. Would he? Goddammit, Dean groaned, turning away from that insufferable clock. He needed to sleep. He would not be able to get through tomorrow if he did not get enough sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~

"Hey," Ash said, just loud enough for Dean to hear as he poked his friend's arm with the eraser end of his pencil (thankfully. he wasn't always so courteous). "Winchester! Wake. Up." Each word was annunciated with another jab of the pencil.

"The fuck?" Dean blinked, eyes focusing in on his friend sitting in front of him. Ash was staring at him, eyebrows raised, though Dean couldn't determine whether that expression was out of humor or confusion. He yawned. Whatever. He didn't really have the energy to care.

"Did you sleep at all last night?" Ash asked.

"Sure," Dean shrugged. He had slept. Of course he had. He just hadn't slept a whole lot. Probably not enough hours for a high school teenager, especially if he took the past few days into consideration. He'd barely been able to sleep at all since last Friday. Fuck. If he had known his life would get this complicated after bringing Castiel into it, he would have completely avoided the guy. As if that ever would have been possible.

"Uh huh..." Ash said, obviously not believing Dean's bullshit. "Y'know, falling asleep at the break of dawn doesn't count." Dean simply flipped him off, before dropping his head down to rest on his arms again. How the fuck was he going to get through the day and then still be sane enough to defend himself against Castiel Novak. Not that he needed to physically defend himself. He was fairly certain by now that he would never need to, and even if he did, he probably wouldn't be able to. No, he needed to have the energy to hold his emotional defenses against Castiel. The boy had gotten too close before, and if Dean wasn't careful, it could easily happen again.

Ash and Charlie let him be at lunch. If he wasn't so exhausted from feeling sorry for himself, he probably would have noticed how strange that was. Since when had his two overbearing best friends ever allowed him any semblance of privacy?

They were talking about college, he realized somewhere far in the depths of his conscious mind. So, maybe that was way he was allowed to keep to himself today. Apparently, all last minute applications were due by the first of January. Today was... December 14th? Yeah, that should be right. He hadn't been paying attention, so truth be told, that could be a few days off. Not that it mattered.

If Dean remembered correctly, Ash had already gotten into MIT with a generous scholarship. So, he wasn't entirely sure why his genius of a friend was invested in this conversation at all. He had nothing to worry about anymore. He would be leaving for Cambridge, Massachusetts in August and leaving Lawrence behind for good. For good. Ash was smart enough to get out of here, and Dean had known that since before they had officially met. Fuck, he had to stop getting so emotionally invested in the wrong people.

At least Charlie would be visiting during the summer. She loved her parents too much to leave them behind, no matter how far she travelled for school. Nobody knew yet where Charlie would end up. She hadn't applied early decision to any schools, mainly because her final decision would depend on scholarships and financial aid, even though she told everyone she couldn't decide which school she liked best. Dean knew better. Charlie's father had died in a car accident years before she met Dean. Her mom was working two jobs just to pay the bills. So, while Ash and Dean already knew where they'd be spending the following year, Charlie's decision had to wait. All Dean knew was that she was hoping to go North.

"I dunno... what do you think, Winchester?"

"Huh?" He looked up to see Charlie waving her hand only a few inches from his face.

"Oh you are still alive! Good, thoughts on the matter at hand?" Dean stared at his friends on the other side of the table for a moment, wracking his brain for whatever they might be asking his opinion on. Probably college (duh), but he couldn't get any more specific than that. He wasn’t applying anywhere, so they definitely weren’t curious about his final decision.

"And... what exactly is the matter at hand?" he asked. Hopefully, this would be something that required little to no brain activity on his part.

"Which school is better: Georgia Tech or MIT?" Ash asked, making sure to emphasize each school's name by pointing a limp french fry at Dean.

"I dunno," he mumbled, snatching a french fry off Ash's tray before his friend could defend the poor excuse for a cafeteria lunch. "Depends on what you're looking for I guess."

"True, but if you had to choose one for the overall quality of the school, which would it be?" Charlie countered.

"MIT," Dean said, not missing a beat. "Better town." For the short time Dean had considered college as a viable option, he had researched a few engineering schools up north. Besides the fact that most schools there were considerably better in overall quality than any in the south, there was no way he was going to stay below the Mason Dixon line if he didn't have to. Why deal with racist homophobes when he could be living comfortably?

~~~~~~~~~~~

At 5:54pm Dean was pulling the Impala into the Novak's long driveway. He hadn't been here in weeks and yet it still felt like second nature. He could probably navigate every tree, plant, and dangerously sharp rock with his eyes closed. He parked the Impala into her usual spot under the overhang, covered from any possibility of rain or snow. Maybe he couldn't protect himself, but he could at least protect his baby. Sammy would call it symbolism or something, say that Dean projected his fears and anxiety onto the car, but Dean would call him a nerd and insist he just really loved his car.

He breathed in the cool winter air through his open window, letting it calm him. His nerves had been driving him crazy all day. By now he couldn't even remember what he had for breakfast or if he had eaten breakfast at all. All he knew was that he would have to face Castiel soon. If he wasn't relying on the guy for dinner, he might have backed right out of the driveway without ever getting out of his car.

At 5:57pm he rolled up the driver's side window and stepped out of the relative safety of the Impala. _This is such a bad idea_ , he told himself. Yet he couldn't bring himself to walk away now. He needed to face Castiel. He needed to know why. He jingled his keys around his finger as he walked up to the front door. Everything looked so much more intimidating now than it had only a couple weeks ago when he was basically getting paid to eat Castiel's cooking and get his dick sucked. The creaky wood panels on the porch warned him to turn back, save himself from the inevitable danger waiting for him inside. The porch's overhang loomed above him, sucking him into the unlit expanse of the Novak residence. He steeled himself against his better judgement, flattening the wrinkles in his shirt with the palm of his hand and triple checking the time on his cell phone before finally knocking on the door at precisely 6:00pm.

For some reason, he was still surprised when Castiel opened the door two seconds later. Then he noticed his outfit. Castiel had donned a plain white button down and a pair of black dress pants that looked just a size too big on his lean frame. The whole thing was accentuated with a blue tie that hung askew around the boy's neck as if he couldn't quite figure out what he was doing. Dean almost smiled at the effort Cas had obviously put into this before reminding himself not to get too close this time. He couldn't afford to get hurt that badly again.

Castiel invited him in, and Dean immediately started through his routine. Shoes on the mat and just to the right of Castiel's converse. Leather jacket in the closet, on the third hanger from the left. Quick hair check in the mirror. He almost threw his key ring onto the side table right where the foyer became the hallway into the rest of the house before stopping himself. He hadn't realized before how comfortable he had let himself be here. He quickly shoved his keys back into his pocket, heading down the hallway where Castiel was undoubtedly waiting for him.

Everything looked exactly the same as he remembered. White walls all void of any hint of what Mary called "homeliness." No family photos. No color on the accents. Not even a painting. Just white.

As the hallway veered to the left, Dean found himself standing in the Novak's kitchen. Typically he would have headed straight back to the dining room where he would drop his books before coming back to help Castiel with dinner. Today he had expected to simply sit in the dining room and wait for Castiel to come begging for forgiveness. Instead, he stopped short. The aroma rising off the stove was absolutely delectable. It smelled like driving down the highway with the windows down at the beginning of autumn. It smelled like his annual baseball game with Sammy at the end of the summer. It wasn't the same as the relaxed comfort that Mary's cookies always reminded him of, yet it was everything Dean loved and held dear to his heart, though he would never admit it.

"You made burgers?" Dean asked, swirling around to see Castiel at the stove, apron tied loosely around his back. Dean recognized it immediately as one that said "Kiss The Cook" in obnoxious, pink bubble letters. He had tried convincing Cas to wear it at least once a week for a whole month, but the boy always refused. He argued that it was unprofessional and completely unnecessary. Dean, on the other hand, thought it fit perfectly.

Castiel stiffened at the sound of Dean's voice across the room. Dean could see him steeling himself with the expectation of an attack before acknowledging him.

"I..." he glanced back at Dean, suddenly unsure of himself, "uhm... yes." He turned quickly back to the stove. "You said they were your favorite... so I thought..."

"Thanks," Dean interrupted him. Castiel probably would've kept stammering for an hour if he didn't. _God help me, he's adorable_ , flitted through Dean's mind before he could stop himself. Thankfully, Castiel couldn't see the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He shook his head as he made his way into the dining room. _I am so screwed_ , he thought.

Castiel came in a couple minutes later with an enormous platter of freshly grilled burgers. Seriously, he had made enough food to feed a small army. An unopened bag of hamburger rolls was tucked safely underneath his arm.

"Got enough food there, Cas?" Dean asked, only partially joking. For all he knew, he had willingly walked to his own death. Though he highly doubted that after seeing the absurd expression on Castiel's face. He looked so genuinely confused as if he thought a serving platter stacked practically to the ceiling with burgers was a reasonable amount of food for only two people.

"Oh..." he paused to place the platter of burgers on the dining room table and untuck the bag of hamburger rolls from under his arm, "I don't have the chance to make them very often, and I quite enjoy them." His gaze flickered between Dean and the platter on the table. "Is it too much?" Dean almost laughed. Almost.

"Depends how much you're willing to eat, I guess." He shrugged, grateful for the easy conversation even if it was no more than a distraction for them both. He reached for a burger while Castiel took the seat across from him, left leg bouncing with anxiety.

They sat in silence, unsure how to begin. So much had happened in such a short amount of time. Dean knew he came here for a specific reason. He needed to have that conversation with Castiel. He needed to hear the truth straight from the source no matter how bad it was. But now that he was actually here, he couldn't do it. He didn’t know how. Sitting here, with Castiel, sharing a platter of homemade burgers, felt so natural. He didn’t want to lose that again.

“Dean,” Castiel started. Except he had already lost it. He wasn’t here to pretend to tutor Castiel in physics. He wasn’t here to swap stories and make bad jokes with an unlikely friend. All of that was gone. Castiel had destroyed it. Now, Castiel was watching him with an aura of uncertainty instead of his usual calm demeanor. His eyes held no traces of mirth. No, he couldn’t pretend this could ever go back to what it used to be.

“Why did you do it, Cas?” Dean asked, not even bothering to mask the pain in his voice. He might not be able to handle being here much longer, especially if this didn’t go well. Certainly if this didn’t go well.

“I’m sorry.” Castiel’s voice was nothing more than a faint whisper. An echo of the confidence he used to exude in waves.

“Sorry doesn’t change shit, man. I just need to know why.” Dean stared directly at Castiel, searching for any sign of remorse, any subtle sign of guilt in those honest eyes, but Castiel wouldn’t look at him. He kept his gaze locked downward, focusing instead on his own hands, fidgeting in his lap. He looked almost as nervous as Dean felt. So, he waited.

This was difficult for them both. Dean had suffered enough, and he wasn’t fond of making anyone else face that sort of pain. So, he waited. He gave Castiel more time. Time to reflect over his actions, his words. Time to brace himself for whatever storm may lie ahead. Dean watched him silently, waiting, dinner forgotten on the pristine table in between them. The only physical barrier, though by no means the largest one.

They had both erected emotional barriers after that night only a few weeks ago. Dean had allowed his own to weaken in an attempt to get through to the boy he missed most dearly, the one who had pushed him away to begin with. But Castiel couldn’t allow himself to do that so easily. He sat there, watching his own hands fidget in his lap as he worried his bottom lip with his teeth. Dean wanted to understand. He wanted to provide Castiel with the strength he needed to allow his emotional barriers to break. He didn’t want to feel as if they were reaching from opposite ends of the earth. So, he waited.

The longer they sat there, Dean watching Castiel intently, waiting, the less patience Dean was willing to grant the other boy. He had put aside so much pain, so much grief, in order to reach out. And for what? Castiel wouldn’t look at him, wouldn’t answer him. He had allowed Dean to feel at home once again, but forgot the most important part. How could he expect Dean to be forgiving if he himself would not be forthcoming. Dean had waited long enough.

He had no choice but to give up. He couldn’t break Castiel’s barriers on his own, not without aid from Castiel himself. Their friendship seemed unlikely before, but now he knew. It was never meant to be. Castiel was always going to hurt him. Well, it’s about time he learned that nobody destroyed Dean Winchester without consequences.

“Fine,” he finally said. If Castiel wasn’t willing to even attempt to redeem himself, Dean wouldn’t offer redemption. “But don’t expect to see me again.” He stood from the table and left. His emotions were raging in turmoil. He didn’t have to do this. He didn’t want to do this. Down the hallway, grab his things and go. He did have to. Just a few feet down the hallway, he could grab his things and be done with Castiel forever. He wouldn’t be in pain. Down the hallway, grab his things and go. From the second he walked out that door, he would be free.

Down the hallway, grab his things and… Slim fingers closing around his wrist stopped him short.

“Dean, wait.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you tell how much I love emotional cliffhangers?


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As he lay staring up at the ceiling, Dean wondered how he got to this point, which was definitely up for the lowest he’s ever been. Not that it made a difference, really. He was completely fucked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this whole chapter is pure smut. im sorry i made you all wait four months for this. but its all part of the plan. you'll see eventually.

“Dean, wait.” Cas’s hand closed around his wrist, holding him in place. Of course, Dean could break free and walk right out if he really wanted to, but (and he would never admit this out loud) it felt nice to be touching Cas again. 

“Cas,” Dean said, pleading, asking to be let go while still desperately praying that Cas would finally explain. If he weren’t standing right there, back to Cas at that very moment, he would think he was pathetic. Hell, he was there and he thought it was pathetic. He had to get out of there before… Cas pulled Dean around to face him. He only allowed Dean a second to see the broken expression on his face before he was kissing his neck.

Dean had almost forgotten how Cas’s scruff felt against his skin. The rough scratch of pull on his own smooth collar. It had taken him so long to forget how much he craved it. How much he needed Cas close to him, holding him together as he broke down inside. Without thinking, Dean was pulling the small boy closer, pressing their chests together so he could breathe in the familiar scent of Cas’s musky cologne. Cas pushed back so Dean was pressed against the front door, its cool surface a sharp contrast to the heat building up between the boys. It didn’t matter. He didn’t care anymore. Castiel was here with him. Nothing else mattered. Nothing could be more important than this. 

Castiel was kissing along Dean’s collarbone, sucking gorgeous hickeys into his skin that Dean would need to cover later on. Hiding them from his friends would most likely prove to be a nightmare, but he didn’t care. Cas was claiming Dean’s body as his own. His hands slid up underneath Dean’s t-shirt, caressing the toned muscles hidden underneath. Dean’s breaths grew shorter, more laboured as Castiel tweaked his nipples playfully with one hand and allowed the other to wander further down, near Dean’s groin. Even if Dean were capable of thinking clearly at the moment, he probably would have rationalized that he had died and gone to heaven. Instead, he let his head fall back against the door and whispered sweet encouragements to Castiel, urging him on and closer to Dean’s crotch where his entire blood flow had rerouted at the first touch of Castiel’s lips against his own skin. 

His dick pressed painfully against the strict confines of his jeans, begging for the soft touch of Castiel’s hands, his lips, whatever he was willing to give. Dean would take it all. Castiel returned his wandering mouth to Dean’s neck, fingers tangling in the taller boy’s hair as he pressed their groins together. Unfortunately, it didn’t last. As Dean pulled Castiel’s body closer, hands cupping the gracious globes of Cas’s plump ass, the other boy pulled away. He placed one hand against the door, holding himself in place as he steadied his own breathing. Dean’s attempts to urge him back in seemed futile. Despite the hunger evident in Castiel’s eyes, he wasn’t moving, simply standing, head down as if contemplating his next move. No, no, Dean couldn’t lose him again, couldn’t let him slip away so quickly, so easily. He needed Castiel closer, holding him, claiming him as something worth caring about. He couldn’t let Castiel take that all away again.

He reached a hand out to cup Castiel’s cheek and tilt his face upwards. If only he could see those beautiful blue eyes. Castiel could never lie so long as Dean could see his eyes. Castiel looked back at him for only a second, something like regret flashing ever so briefly across his features, but before Dean had a chance to process the information, Castiel was leading him downstairs. They stumbled clumsily down the hallway, grasping playfully at each other’s bodies as they made their way to Castiel’s bedroom and back where nobody would find them. The room looked exactly as Dean remembered it, plush blanket strewn haphazardly across the floor, closet door propped open, revealing what Dean now knew to be a collection of frills, lace, and smooth silk. Dean stopped for a moment, taking in the sight as he recalled everything that had happened here. A dangerous combination of truth or dare and too much alcohol, all culminating in the most amazing sex of his life thus far.

When he turned back around to face Castiel, the other boy was already half-naked, shirt thrown lazily to the side and pants unbuttoned. He looked just as gorgeous as Dean remembered, if not even more so. His body was lean and toned from years of diligent exercise. Dean wanted nothing more than to worship him, kissing inch of his body until he could ease the tension below the surface. Not that Castiel was likely to ever allow him such a pleasure.

Castiel’s hands faltered when he noticed Dean’s gaze, sweeping gratefully along Castiel’s torso. He cocked his eye to the side and crossed his arms across his chest, eyeing Dean carefully, before he said, “Strip for me” in a tone that sent shivers down Dean’s spine. He had imagined the pleasure of being with Castiel again, but all his mind’s desires were nothing compared to Cas himself. Dean pulled his t-shirt hastily over his head, nearly getting himself caught in the process, until he felt Cas’s hands gently guiding him.

He felt Castiel’s scruff brush against his cheek before the other boy whispered, “Pants off. I want you against the wall when I get back.” Another quick kiss on his neck and once again, Castiel was gone. Dean groaned at the sudden emptiness in the room, but continued to undress, kicking his jeans off with about as much finesse as he could muster at the moment, which was admittedly very little. Castiel gave no indication of how long he would be gone, so Dean pressed his palms against the far and leaned in, fully intending to be ready the moment Cas returned. The possibility that Cas might betray him again nagged at the back of his mind, refusing to completely disappear, but he pushed it aside in favor of the anticipation twisting his gut.

As the seconds ticked by with no sign of Castiel, Dean’s patience began to wear thin. He dropped a hand from its place on the wall, reaching down to stroke his waning erection. As thoughts of Castiel’s bare torso filtered into his mind, he felt his dick hardening in his palm. He imagined Castiel pushing Dean down to his knees, guiding his head to Cas’s hardened length. The taste of precome dripping down Dean’s throat as Cas thrusts inside greedily. Dean bit back a moan, gripping the base of his cock tightly to prevent his own premature orgasm. He wouldn’t come before Cas returned. No, he could be good. He would be good for Castiel. He could impress Cas and hopefully be rewarded for his efforts.

Just as he began to wonder whether Castiel really was returning, he felt a hand stroking the globes of his bare ass. “So good for me, baby. So patient,” Cas praised, bringing a calm smile to Dean’s face as Castiel toyed with his open hole. “You’re just desperate for my cock aren’t you?” Dean gasped as he felt a single, lube-slick finger push past his rim. The intrusion was small, yet so much more intense than any of those drunken nights when he mustered up the courage to try fingering himself. It was amazing. Fireworks exploded behind his fluttering eyelids as Castiel began to thrust his finger in and out of Dean’s hole, bending it just slightly to catch on his rim every time. Dean leaned farther into the wall, crossing his arms to rest his head on as he pushed his ass back against Cas’s hand, silently begging for more.

Castiel obliged, pressing a second finger in alongside the first and scissoring them gently as he allowed Dean time to adjust. The feeling was overwhelming, sending burst of pleasure along every nerve in his body. He didn’t think it could get better. The only thing he could possibly imagine being better than Castiel’s fingers thrusting in his ass was Castiel finally pushing his fully hard cock inside and using him until Dean could feel cum dripping down his thighs. Until Castiel’s fingers brushed against his prostate. Dean couldn’t hold back the pleasured scream that tore through his lungs. He was wrong. It could be so much better.

Castiel placed his other hand against Dean’s hip, holding him easily in place as he continued to scissor his fingers in the boy’s hole. Dean let his head fall onto his arms, unable to hold himself up any longer. He could feel the sweat dripping down his back as he let out a deep moan with every thrust on his prostate. Castiel knew exactly how to tear him apart piece by agonizing piece. Dean’s mind was in shambles, unable to form a single coherent thought aside from “more.” He felt Castiel massaging a third finger against his hole, slowly stretching Dean wider, making room for himself inside. 

“Need your cock,” Dean groaned. “M’ready.” He couldn’t hold himself together much longer. He wanted to feel Castiel’s hard length filling him, knowing he was the one satisfying Cas’s needs. He craved it. Instead he got a low chuckle, and a hand rubbing soothing circles against his hip.

“You can come,” Castiel told him, voice low and nearing on gravelly with lust. “But I’ll keep going. I have plans for you to last all night.” He punctuated each of the last few words with a thrust directly on Dean’s prostate, causing his knees to falter, barely holding him upright. Dean moaned loudly, overwhelmed by the pleasure Cas sent radiating through his body and mind. He couldn’t last much longer like this. He wouldn’t last. 

When Dean began to feel himself on the verge of orgasm, Castiel removed his fingers, leaving Dean’s hole gaping, clenching desperately at nothing. He whined at the sudden loss as it pulled him back from the verge of coming too soon. But no sooner were Castiel’s fingers gone then they were replaced by the feeling of cool silicon, slick with lube. Castiel circled a soothing palm against Dean’s hip as he pushed the object in, filling the emptiness his fingers had left behind. Dean pushed back against it, uncaring of whatever Castiel’s intentions may be, only knowing he needed to feel full again. Castiel thrust the thick object shallowly in and out of Dean’s hole a few times, before inserting it fully, making sure it fit snugly inside. 

“So perfect,” Castiel murmured, “Taking that thick cock so good.” Dean could barely hold himself upright anymore, breath heavy, knees weak and shaking with the effort. He felt Castiel’s hands on ass again, pulling his cheeks apart before something soft and wet began circling his rim. Dean screamed at the sensation. Castiel’s tongue licked across his perineum, pushed against his rim, already stretched tight around the plug. Dean’s hand shot down to grip the base of his cock, but the added sensation only pushed him farther over the edge. His moans filled the room as he came, spurts of come painting the wall in front of him while Castiel continued to play with his ass. The overstimulation was too much. He couldn’t take it. 

Castiel was venturing even lower, fondling Dean’s balls as he continued to stretch his hole further with his tongue. Dean whined, the intense pleasure overwhelming his body and beginning to edge towards what he might call torture. His whole body was on fire, burning hot and drenching him with sweat as Castiel’s tongue finally pushed inside next to the plug. Dean was fairly certain at this point he had died, but he couldn’t tell whether this was heaven or hell. All he knew was Castiel. Castiel’s hands massaging his balls and smoothing down his thighs. Castiel’s mouth on his ass, tongue flicking inside his hole, against his rim. The rest of the world melted away into oblivion as Castiel fucked Dean senseless with his tongue.

As the minutes ticked by, Dean realized how serious Castiel was about that threat. Soon, Dean was on his knees, greedily sucking Cas’s cock into his mouth. The feel of the hard length in his mouth was so much better than he imagined. Precome dripped down his throat as bobbed his head up and down the shaft, guided by Castiel’s firm grip on his head. Despite his complete inexperience in giving blowjobs, Castiel was moaning above him, grip tightening with every thrust. Castiel didn’t last much longer. He came down Dean’s throat, forcing him to swallow every last drop.

If Dean tried to quantify how much time they spent in this room, Castiel pulling orgasms out of Dean while he used him for his own pleasure, he would be at a complete loss. By the time Castiel decided they were done, Dean had reached a point far beyond exhaustion. Without waiting to see whether or not Castiel would stay with him, he passed out on the floor.

Unfortunately, Dean’s internal clock woke him up long before he heard the alarm from the adjacent room. Castiel’s alarm, presumably for school. Fuck. He still had to go to school. As he lay on the plush carpet, staring up at the ceiling, Dean wondered how he got to this point, which was definitely up for the lowest he’s ever been. Not that it made a difference, really, because now that he had Castiel close again, he wasn’t planning on letting go so easily. Yeah, he was completely fucked. And not in the fun way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love you all so much. Thanks for sticking with me through this crazy rollercoaster of a fic. Especially with these two idiots never doing precisely the things I want them to. Castiel always seems to have a different opinion.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean Winchester was completely fucked and boy did he know it. Nothing changed except the way Castiel treated Dean when they were alone, and that also so gradually that Dean barely noticed at first. They still weren’t the same around each other, not by miles, but sometimes Dean dared to think that maybe Cas was trying to apologize.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for being so patient!! Hope you love this chapter, can't wait to hear your thoughts!!

Dean Winchester was completely fucked and boy did he know it. He parked the Impala under the overhang three hours ago, and proceeded to spend the next two hours exploring Castiel’s body with his hands and mouth. Of course they didn't spend two hours fucking continuously. Castiel still made an absolutely delectable dinner for himself and Dean, which they shared in their usual positions across from each other at the dining room table. Dean still brought his homework under the pretense of studying, despite the fact that they both knew they wouldn't be studying anything other than each other for the evening. He couldn’t bring himself to shake the habit just yet. Without some pretense as to why he drove here once a week so consistently, he would have to face the real reason why he did it. He wasn’t ready for that yet, so he brought his homework.

For nearly an hour, Castiel had been running his fingers mindlessly through Dean’s short hair as they lay side-by-side in a post-coital haze. They were still hiding in the basement, far from curious eyes and ears who could appear at a moment's notice, but for the first time since it all began, Castiel hadn't run away yet. If Dean weren't so exhausted, he may have realized some intense meaning behind this small detail, but as things were, Dean was exhausted so he simply stared at ceiling. As things were, he wasn't so exhausted that he could be comfortable testing Cas’s boundaries quite yet, so he kept his wandering hands firmly to himself. He tamped down the urge to curl into Castiel’s side and throw his arm across Castiel’s waist. For the third time in as many weeks, he told himself to remain content with whatever Cas was willing to give him. It wasn’t much, but it was Cas, and that was all Dean was willing to hope for.

He turned his head to watch Cas resting comfortably beside him. Dean doesn’t think he’s ever seen him look so peaceful, the normal tension eased from his face, muscles loose as his chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm. He looked beautiful like this. Not that Dean would ever say something like that to Castiel for fear of accidentally destroying that moment of peace. For now at least, he didn’t quite mind.

He ran over the events of the past few weeks in his mind in a poor attempt to make sense of it all. Castiel’s texts had been coming more and more frequently, their contents growing less demanding, less important, on the rare occasion, sometimes even trivial. Dean didn’t understand it. Castiel still ignored him in their school lives, choosing instead to be surrounded by his teammates on a day to day basis. Nothing changed except the way Castiel treated Dean when they were alone, and that also so gradually that Dean barely noticed at first. It started after two weeks of their meetings, secret and illicit as the only way Castiel would allow it, with a quick smile, a kinder word here and there. They still weren’t the same around each other, not by miles, but sometimes Dean dared to think that maybe Cas was trying to apologize in whatever ways he knew how. Every previous evening, Castiel had left Dean alone to recover and reorganize, expecting him to simply leave without another word spoken between them. Dean was becoming accustomed to Castiel’s decision to close himself off as firmly and definitively as he possibly could after allowing Dean to experience him more naked and vulnerable than anyone ever had. Except for tonight.

Tonight Dean drank in Castiel’s continued presence like a drug. It was unexpected and unfamiliar, yet comforting all the same. He didn’t know how long they had been lying there, nor how long Castiel would stay. He simply let his gaze trail over Cas’s slim figure, appreciating what he had been granted for as long as he could. He would do whatever he had to to ensure he never lost this, whatever this was.

Yeah, Dean Winchester was completely fucked and boy did he know it. 

 

Dean woke from a restful sleep to an empty room, a sight he was all too familiar with. Castiel must have left after he dozed off. Nonetheless, he considered himself lucky to have had Cas stay with him for so long beforehand. Slowly but surely, Dean believed, they were making progress. He continued to reflect as he gathered his belongings, ready to head home for the night. He wasn’t totally naive. He knew they could never go back to the way things had been before, so many months ago now it was beginning to feel unreal. As if everything had happened within the confines of his own imagination, even though he knew that wasn’t true. 

He snatched his phone from where it had been thrown carelessly to the far corner of the room, near what Dean had taken to calling the ‘closet of mystery.’ Though he had been allowed to browse its contents, he still remained entirely clueless as to its true purpose. He shrugged, daring a quick glance at the time and continuing on his mission to locate everything that had been scattered haphazardly during his time with Castiel. Nearly everything was back in his bag when his brain finally caught up and he looked again at the time displayed on his phone screen. 

It was 3 AM. Castiel had let him sleep until 3 AM without so much as a warning. Dean glanced around the room again, in search of what he wasn’t sure exactly, but he did it anyway. Everything looked the same as he remembered. It couldn’t change too much seeing as the room was basically void of any personality or useful furniture. He moved quickly towards the only door, connected to (of all things) Castiel’s closet. Locked. Why was it locked? No, okay, Castiel had locked the door before. Besides, this wouldn’t be the first time Dean stayed the night here. Sure, it was the first time since the first time when he hadn’t been expecting to stay, but it wasn’t as if Castiel had suddenly kidnapped him and locked him in his basement right? Dean was overreacting. He just had to stop and breathe. Stop. and Breathe.

He dropped his head to rest against the door in front of him, hand still gripping the doorknob as if it might not in fact be unlocked and he had simply forgotten to turn it. Of course, this wasn’t the case. The door was actually locked, and Castiel very likely sleeping soundly on the other side. Who knows how long Dean would have stayed there, mind racing anxiously to a worse conclusion every fifteen seconds, if his phone hadn’t vibrated in his other hand at that moment. He tilted his phone screen upward and gazed down the length of the door to inspect why his phone could possibly have a new notification at 3 AM on a Tuesday. He expected a message from Charlie, probably yelling at him for not telling Mary he wouldn’t be home, which he realized belatedly he had not done. Maybe even a text from Ash about some new scheme Dean could try to understand, even though his chances were slim to begin with. Of all the things he could have thought to expect, four unread messages from Castiel was not to be found anywhere on the list. And yet, glowing faintly on his dimmed phone screen was an alert for four unread messages from the boy on the other side of this damn door.

Dean opened them, for the moment forgetting to keep his guard up. It wasn’t as if he had anything else vying for his attention.

To: Dean Winchester

From: Castiel

I didn’t wish to wake you. Please, let me know when you leave.

To: Dean Winchester

From: Castiel

It’s getting late. If you are awake, I advise you leave soon.

To: Dean Winchester

From: Castiel

It may be better for you to stay the night tonight. Let me know if you awake.

The first three had been sent throughout the night while Dean slept. Castiel didn’t seem too distressed regarding their, or rather Dean’s, current situation. Dean was touched by the slight sentiment he had been shown. Castiel’s priority had been allowing Dean to rest peacefully.

The fourth text, which had apparently only just been sent, pulled a small smile briefly across Dean’s features.

To: Dean Winchester

From: Castiel

I only locked the door so as not to arouse suspicion. Do you need anything?

He allowed his muscles to finally relax, hand dropping its grip on the doorknob and falling to his side. Castiel was awake on the other side of this door, and he was looking out for Dean in the little ways he had begun to permit himself. It wasn’t much. Dean wasn’t about to pretend Castiel was his savior or something equally absurd, but he was grateful.

To: Castiel

From: Dean

think im ok. just surprised

To: Dean Winchester

From: Castiel

I did not consider your own schedule. I should have woken you earlier.

Dean smiled fondly and made his way back to the center of the plush carpet, throwing his bag across the room as he did. Seemed like he would be here all night anyway. Before he could send back a reply, his phone alerted him to a new text.

To: Dean Winchester

From: Castiel

Please accept my apologies for such ignorance. It was unintentional.

Dean wasn’t sure whether Castiel was referring only to the events of that night, but he shot back a quick thanks before thinking too hard about it. If he had bothered to think about it at all, well quite honestly he probably would’ve forgotten to text Cas back altogether. Dean Winchester is many things, but he does his best to make sure rude is not one of them.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Dean entered Lawrence High the next morning with Charlie swinging both their hands and humming happily to herself. Not that he had any idea why because so far she had refused to answer any and all of Dean’s questions regarding the unusual situation. Seriously, since when did Charlie look so happy this early in the morning? 

“You’re not sick are you?” Dean asked first, almost immediately following his initial, “What the hell?”

Charlie giggled.

“Is it some sort of infection?”

She bumped him lightly on the shoulder, continuing on her way as if Dean hadn’t said a word. Normally Dean would be happy she’s happy and all that good friend stuff, but this was terrifying. This was very much unlike the normal Charlie he had come to know and love. Charlie had only been known to hold hands with Dean under two certain circumstances. The first of which being when something important was happening and one of them was in desperate need of physical contact. The second and much more common instance was when Charlie was being absurdly over dramatic and took his hands in hers for the effect of it all. This morning, as far as Dean could tell, was neither of those two things. It was just a Wednesday morning like any other, regardless of where he spent the previous night.

“What do you know that I don’t?” Dean continued to interrogate her.

“That's not a fair question,” Charlie finally decided to answer. “We both know there's a very large knowledge discrepancy here.” She winked at him and released his hand, skipping off to her locker. Dean groaned. Okay, wrong question. So what was the right question?

“You're not going to just tell me, are you?” he asked dejectedly. Obviously Charlie wouldn't come right out and tell him about whatever it was. Not after making him go through all of this first. That would've defeated the whole purpose. 

“Oh Dean,” she said, patting him on the shoulder, “my poor, sweet, naive little Dean.” She flashed him a quick smile. “You'll figure it out eventually, and if not, you'll find out.” Her hair swished around her shoulders as she turned and skipped happily to her first class, leaving Dean standing alone and confused in front of her locker with less than two minutes to the start of the day. He shook his head in disbelief and practically ran to his own locker. 

If Dean had his way, things would have started making sense for the rest of the day. Unfortunately, the universe had other ideas. Who else was standing by Dean’s locker, supposedly having been waiting for him to arrive, but Castiel Novak. If Dean weren't so absolutely terrified at the sight of him, his stomach would certainly have been doing giddy somersaults. But Dean was absolutely terrified. In all the time since they had begun whatever it was they had going on together, not once had Castiel purposely approached him in public. It was an unspoken agreement between them. They wouldn't do so much as acknowledge each other in case somebody else were to catch on. Really, it was about protecting Castiel’s flawless reputation as the school’s top asshole, but it also managed to keep any extra attention off Dean, which he greatly appreciated. 

So the question remained. Why the hell was Castiel leaning so casually against Dean’s locker? They had hardly spoken this morning aside from another quick apology from Cas before Dean was out the door, sans breakfast. Surely, Castiel didn't want to actually talk to him, right? Had he changed his mind again? Was he here to tell Dean that he made a mistake? To leave him alone? Never so much as look at him again? Dean certainly didn't doubt that Castiel could. Would he?

Castiel raised an eyebrow, obviously having noticed Dean stalling about ten feet away as the seconds ticked down to the bell that would signal the official beginning of the day. Dean stammered for a second, swallowed down the lump in his throat, before attempting to gather himself and approach Cas as calmly as he could manage. 

Castiel pushed off the locker, though not to meet Dean halfway as one would expect from someone who had already been waiting for an unknown length of time. He stared down at his feet, losing the air of easy confidence he normally exuded. Dean was reminded of that afternoon so long ago now when Castiel had shown up at Dean’s house, made dinner for the family, the only time he had seen Cas look so broken. Even now, he almost looked scared.

Once Dean was standing in front of him, Castiel held out a small something wrapped in tin foil. “Here,” he said. “You uh… you left before I could,” Cas stumbled over his words, flustered for the first time since Dean’s met him. He held out the package, urging Dean to take it.

Dean reached out hesitantly. It was small, about the size of his palm, and smelled faintly of bacon. 

“I made breakfast,” Cas finally said before walking away, leaving Dean to gape at his retreating back. He peeled open the tin foil packaging to find a breakfast sandwich, made exactly the way he likes it. That is to say, with a generous serving of bacon. 

~~~~~~~~~~~

After that, things began to change much more rapidly. Dean began receiving texts from Cas on a near daily basis. Cas kept sending the weekly text to make sure Dean was still planning on spending the evening, but now it was accompanied by another to ask what he would like for dinner. Throughout the rest of the week, Dean found himself reading what he assumed were selected parts of Castiel’s internal monologue. Sometimes Cas sent him thoughts from his classes, complaints about baseball practice, jokes he thought Dean might enjoy. Most of the time, Dean found himself smiling fondly at pictures of bumblebees or simply a bee emoji. 

When Castiel sent him a text one Friday afternoon, shortly after school let out for the week, to ask his preference between two types of beer, Dean thought nothing of it. When Castiel showed up to crash their not-really-a-party in Charlie’s basement a few hours later with said beer, well that was different. If Dean were any less inebriated, he probably would’ve said something more intelligent than the quick “what the hell?” he muttered in Ash’s general direction.

“I hope I’m not too late,” Castiel said. Only Charlie seemed unfazed by his sudden appearance. “I uh,” he paused, shuffling his bags around awkwardly, “I brought beer.” He held the drugstore bag up briefly before handing it off to Charlie and dropping the rest of his stuff at the foot of the couch. Their weekly get-together suddenly felt much more like a middle school party where Dean’s friends secretly invited his crush with the intent of playing spin the bottle or alternately locking them both in a dark closet for seven minutes. Needless to say, Dean wasn’t exactly pleased with the situation. Charlie and Ash, on the other hand, seemed oddly, if not suspiciously, relaxed about the whole ordeal. Dean was on the verge of shouting something along the lines of “Since when is THIS normal? Does anybody else find this any bit strange?” when Charlie, thankfully, pulled him into the next room.

“Stop,” she said, immediately upon the closing the door. “I know you’re about to freak out about this. Stop.”

“How are you not freaking out about this? Of all people, you should be freaking out about this!” 

“I invited him, Dean!” Her voice raised precariously close to being loud enough for the others to hear them. “We all know you spend enough time alone together, but it might do you two some good to actually talk.”

“So you invited him here?” Dean asked incredulously. Honestly what kind of logic was this girl following now? In what deranged universe was inviting Castiel to get drunk with them the logical response to the problem?

“Yes, Dean! I did!” Charlie stepped closer, lowering her voice to a demanding and honestly extremely intimidating, quiet rage as she backed him into the wall. “You need to sort through your fucking problems. Either be his friend or never speak to him again. Make up your mind.” With that she walked back to join the others, leaving Dean to figure out how he got himself here and what the hell he was going to do about it. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, Charlie was right. He was avoiding the real problem by allowing Castiel to use him like he had, and for what? All Dean got out of this was being closer to Cas. Was he really worth all that?

Dean took another moment to collect himself before walking back to join his friends. Okay, he thought. He could totally do this. 

He entered the room to find Cas, Charlie, and Ash all sitting comfortably on the couch, open beer bottles on the coffee table as they watched the opening scenes of High School Musical play out on the TV. Dean wondered for a moment how he wound up with such strange friends, but decided not to push the question. Besides, High School Musical was a fucking classic. Anyone who claimed they didn’t know every word to at least one song was lying.

Dean snatched his own half-empty bottle from the table and sat down on the floor, back resting casually against the couch between Castiel’s legs. He took a swig from the bottle, steeling himself for whatever reaction there might be. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t spent a whole lot of time between Cas’s legs, but this would probably be the first time they were both fully clothed with no intention of changing that little detail. 

Fortunately, Cas simply bumped his knee against Dean’s shoulder to get his attention, smiling hesitantly when Dean looked up to meet his gaze. Okay. Yeah, this might be okay, Dean thought to himself. He huffed out a laugh and turned back to the movie, more than ready to make a complete fool of himself.

“Wait a second!” Ash paused the movie,  interrupting Gabrielle’s awkward conversation with her mother. “Who’s who this time?” Dean swears Charlie’s eyes lit up like the sun on a summer afternoon. “There’s actually four of us!” Ash squealed with delight. Normally, when they decided to watch High School Musical, Dean covered Ryan’s part, Ash sang for Sharpay, and Charlie sang Gabriella. Quite honestly, they all knew Dean was more tone-deaf than a rhino and also nobody wanted to sing over Drew Seeley. Tonight, however, was going to be different.

“No, c’mon!” Dean protested.

“Yes!” Charlie joined Ash in squealing with delight, which from experience Dean knew could not be good for him.

“Umm….” Cas actually raised his hand. “If I may,” he said, “what is happening?” Charlie and Ash shared another look that had Dean wishing he had grabbed another two beers. 

“Okay, okay.” Ash was practically bouncing in his seat. “Obviously I will be singing Sharpay, because I am the baddest bitch around.”

“And I,” Charlie cut in, “will sing Ryan.” She waited a moment to let this announcement sink in for Dean, his fate becoming more and more apparent. “Along with all the other background parts, i.e. Chad and the full ensemble. What else is a big personality for anyway?” She smiled at Dean and Cas, and let’s be clear, this was not Charlie’s usual heart-warming smile. No, this was a smile that could turn any person in it’s path into a shivering, nervous mess. Dean glanced up at Cas just in time to see Cas looking back to him. Whether it was a silent plea for clarification or support Dean wasn’t entirely sure.

“I actually,” Cas interrupted once again, “I really can’t sing.” Charlie actually laughed at that.

“Don’t you worry about that sweetheart.” She used her sweetest, most charming and endearing voice on him. Dean held in a groan. “Neither can Dean!” Dean looked up at Cas one more time, grimacing.

“Want another beer before we find out who’s singing Gabriella’s part?” Dean asked.

“If we’re down to Troy and Gabriella, I will take Gabriella,” Cas answered almost immediately. Oh dear lord. “But I will also take that beer, if you don’t mind.” Dean shook his head and made to get up.

“Fantastic!” Ash concluded, finally resuming the movie. “Don’t take too long Winchester, your part’s coming up!”

 

If anyone were to ask Dean how they got from barely tolerating each other to singing passionate duets so quickly, he wouldn’t be able to do much more than laugh. By the end of that night, he and Castiel were cuddled on the sofa, arms and legs tangled together in a messy conglomeration of limbs. He glared at Charlie and Ash every time they winked at him, but he loved every second of it. He hadn’t been able to get this close to Castiel in weeks, even if they were both inebriated now and Cas may or may not regret this in the morning, Dean considered it something of an accomplishment.

Castiel was still a little more difficult to read than he had been before, but by now Dean considered himself to be nearly fluent in the facial expressions and speaking and texting habits of one particular Castiel Novak. Nearly fluent. He still had some ways of improvement to go. The look Castiel was giving him by the time High School Musical 2 ended was one he definitely wasn’t sure how to read yet. Nonetheless, Dean settled comfortably against Castiel’s chest, smiling contentedly and murmuring the lyrics to “You Are the Music In Me” to himself as he fell asleep. Unfortunately, he was slightly too drunk to notice Castiel running his fingers softly through Dean’s hair.

 

Waking up to an empty couch the next morning was a disappointment, to say the least. Dean rolled onto the floor before making any sort of attempt to stand and jolted himself into an early-morning hangover migraine. One of his worst so far this year. Thankfully, the smell of pancakes and bacon was already wafting in from the kitchen, so he couldn’t be too upset. He stalked upstairs to find Charlie sitting at the table, nursing her own hangover, while Ash danced around the kitchen, preparing their usual cure. How that kid never ended up with a hangover was a mystery for the century, but every time Dean thought he should look into it, he was ultimately distracted by his own painful hangover. The universe was so unfair.

“So,” Dean said, breaking the silence and thereby worsening his migraine tenfold, “he uh, he already leave?” Charlie may have been glaring at him for actually daring to speak, but her gaze softened at the vague mention of Castiel.

“Said he had practice,” Ash said cheerily. Dean was honestly amazed that nobody had jumped Ash on a Saturday morning before because if he weren’t in so much pain, he absolutely would. Not that it had anything to do with his disappointment at not waking up with Cas, no, of course not. Dean simply nodded and poured himself another glass of orange juice. He had gotten texts from Castiel before about Saturday morning practice, so he had no right to be upset, but he also didn’t seem to have too much control over that sort of thing.

“I’m sure you’ll hear from him,” Charlie said, keeping her voice quiet so as not to aggravate her own headache.

Later that afternoon, when Dean was relaxing at home with Sammy, his phone vibrated with a text from none other than Castiel. Sammy gave him a questioning look, but Dean just shrugged it off to see what Cas has to say this time.

To: Dean Winchester

From: Castiel

Hope the hangover’s okay. Do you always drink that much?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CAS!!!! I know he fucked up guys, but he's trying. Lil boy is so broken.
> 
> The next chapter might take a lil while because I have some other projects to work on for the next few weeks or so, but be sure to follow me on tumblr for updates!  
> http://amyzestypond.tumblr.com/

**Author's Note:**

> The parts of Ash's speech in French translate to "I'm very sorry my little cabbages. No time for fun (pleasure) this morning. . . and body if we like you" (imagine him raising his eyebrows suggestively)


End file.
